It Didn't End at Skyfall
by wolfhorsegurl3
Summary: M was replaced w/Gareth Mallory, who brought along his 2 personal agents, Clarence Barker & Emerald Jones. When agents start showing up dead, all of MI6 blames them, so Mallory picks Jones to take the fall. However, things don't go as planned & she comes back ready for blood, but she can't do it on her own. Will Bond & Q, the only people she's trusted in years, help or destroy her?
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue**_

M was replaced, of course, with Gareth Mallory, and much was changed. The departments were run stricter, new rules put into place, and the consequences worse than ever before. And then came the new agents, Clarence Barker and Emerald Jones. They were M's personal agents at MI6, as slippery and deceptive as snakes. Around M they were stone faced, heartless, but around the other agents they seemed almost normal. Barker was tall, of African descent, and a cocky sarcastic flirt, almost like Double O Seven himself, but never getting quite as lucky. Rumor had it he was 007's replacement, but surely nobody could replace 007? Bond didn't seem to care, but if he was getting replaced, then everyone must be.

Jones wasn't a replacement for anybody, she was just there, gorgeous and deadly. She acted young and flirty, using her looks to hide her dangerous motives. She was short, only around 5'5, with tan skin, long brown curly locks, and piercing emerald eyes. She was slim and curvy, with high cheeks bones and a button nose. Though she was only in her twenties-twenty seven, to be exact- it was clear she had seen, heard, and done things. She had the eyes of someone far beyond her years.

Not much was known about these two agents and their presence made everyone uncomfortable. Eyes darted around, always watching their backs. Old alliances broke and new ones formed. The air was always heavy with tension and unease, the black maw of fear and uncertainty clamping down on even the bravest agents. Fear of the unknown, fear of what horror they might face, fear for their lives. If M was going to replace them, there was no way he was doing it peacefully. He was going to use force. When you were an agent at MI6, the only way out was death or disappearance, though the first was more common.

The only agent who didn't seem concerned for his safety was Bond, James Bond. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and he was going to set things right, because that's what Bond did.

_**Chapter 1**_

My navy blue heels clicked and clacked on the white tile floors of MI6 headquarters, polished just enough so that the fluorescent lights overhead reflected in their surface. The MI6 agents pretended not to notice me walk by, but their heads ducked, bodies shrunk in, or they overcompensated for their fear and stood taller, acting brave. There were a few, however, who barely reacted at all, including Mr. Bond and his secretary Miss Eve Moneypenny. Bond winked at me as we passed each other, Moneypenny giving me a polite nod.

I simply nodded back, pretending not to have noticed the brief closing of one of Bond's mischievous blue eyes. Mr. Bond was indeed a handsome man; strong, intelligent, confident. He was smooth, seductive, and eager to get into every woman's pants, mind included but that wasn't going to happen. At least not yet.

I stepped into the main section of level five, walking past the maze of cubicles towards M's office. He had scheduled a meeting with Clarence and I at noon, which was odd because he always took his lunch break and exactly twelve thirty. Anything he needed to discuss with us before lunch had to be important. I could only hope it was for a mission. I was eager to get back on the field, as it had been almost a month since I had. In the last six months I'd only been on two. One right after M brought me over from America, and the second right after he took over MI6.

I was a former CIA agent in the United States, but M had suddenly taken an interest in me, so sudden and passionate he trades three Brittish agents just for me. It hadn't taken me long to figure out why.

When I reached M's office door, I knocked, and it was soon followed the deep "Come in" of M. I straightened out my navy blue blazer and brushed off my white skirt before walking in. M simply looked up at me, gesturing for me to sit in the seat beside Clarence. I could feel Clarence's brown eyes watching me as I took my seat, crossing my legs and folding my hands together, but I didn't acknowledge him. Contrary to popular belief, Clarence and I didn't get along very well. He was rude and arrogant, dangerously so. He thought he could go around doing and saying whatever he pleased, and whenever I tried to put him in his place it always ended in a scuffle. The score was about even right now.

"Right, now that you're both here," M started, pulling two manilla folders from a desk drawer and sliding them across the table to us. "Let's get this over with." his voice was quiet, eyes searching the bottom of the door for foot shadows.

He seemed calm, but it was clear he didn't want anybody else to know about this. What could be so important?

"I need these agents dead within eight weeks. Space them out appropriately and don't let anybody find any evidence of who did this. I want these kills quick and clean, with as little damage to the bodies as possible. Miss Jones, You're going to need a gun for this."

I fought to keep a scowl off my face. Knives were my forte, my weapon of choice, my _trademark_, and now he wanted me to use a gun? The only gun I had was a bulky pistol that made a lot of noise! I was the first to open my folder and look at it, my eyes scanning the page before going wide. The target was an MI6 agent. There was no evidence of the agent going rogue or working with another agency. Odd. I pulled the file closer and flipped through the other pages, each face staring back at me a face I had seen around the office. "But they're..."

M just nodded. "Yes, I know."

I just shook my head, completely bewildered. "But...why?" I knew M was planning on making changes, bringing in a few new agents, but this? I did know how to kill, expertly eve, but my job was to gather information and take down international threats. I was a spy, not an assassin, and now M assigned me this?

"We cannot trust that their loyalty lies with me. We're going to replace them."

I couldn't wrap my head around this. What the h*ll was M thinking? I ended up just sitting there with my mouth open, prepared to speak words that wouldn't form.

"Is there something wrong, Jones?" M asked me with a raised eyebrow. Something in his tone was threatening, warning me to just say okay and not argue.

I closed my mouth and the file, putting it in my blazer before sighing. "No, sir. Permission to be excused?"

"Permission granted."

I nodded and walked from the office, slipping back my mask of flirty confidence to hide my confusion. I needed to kill these five agents in eight weeks time, and no doubt Clarence had another five agents to take down. M said the transition would be quick and easy. Quick? Sure. Easy? Maybe. Tolerable? Not for someone with standards. Fortunate for me, I had no problem ignoring mine. What I couldn't ignore, though, was the fact that I now needed a gun.

I made my way down to the Quartermaster Division to look for one Q in particular. Mr. Bond's Q. He was supposed to be the best, and why should I have to settle for less? I walked up behind Q with a smirk, crossing my arms. "I've been looking for you." I told him, my voice low and almost taunting. I bit my lip as he turned around to face me, big brown eyes looking at me from behind his black framed glasses.

"Ah, Miss Jones." he said with a nod. "Is there something I could help you with?"

"Actually, there is." I reached out with my left hand and placed it on his shoulder, trailing my fingers lightly across his chest as I slowly walked around him. There was no one else around, so I was free to do as I pleased. "I need a gun, Q. Something small, silent, not flashes, easy to hide under a dress. A very revealing dress." I paused once I was behind him again, slowly wrapping my arms around his shoulders and resting my chin on one. I let the mental image of me in a skimpy dress sink in before continuing. "You think you could help me with that?" I said into his ear, my lips brushing against it. I could feel him tense up, though from unease or trying to remain calm I couldn't tell.

"Depends on what you need it for." he said, his voice not wavering in the slightest.

"For a mission, of course."

"Normally when an agent asks a Q for a weapon, they tell them what the mission is for so they have a better idea of what to supply you with."

"Well, sorry darling, but that information is for my eyes only."

"I see." he said with a brief nod. "When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow evening, please." I walked back around to face him, my hand traveling up his neck to hold up his chin. His dark, wavy hair flopped in his eyes and I brushed it away before releasing him. "Thanks, Q. I owe you one." He could take it however he wanted, but I most certainly didn't owe him anything.

"Getting a little cozy, are we?" a voice sounded from the doorway, a voice that belonged to none other than Bond himself.

A smirk curled up my lips as I glanced over my shoulder to watch Bond walk over to us, his strides long and with purpose. "Just business, Mr. Bond."

"Please, call me James."

"James is a bit informal, don't you think?"

"I have a feeling we'll know each other very well soon enough."

He was smirking, that flirty cocky smirk. I wanted to punch that d*mn smirk right off his face, but at the same time, it amused me, this game that he played. "I doubt that."

"I don't." He winked again, and I felt my smirk grow bigger.

"Do you mind?" Q interrupted with a shake of his head.

"Sorry, Mr..."

I expected him to finish my sentence with a name, but instead he said, "Q."

"Right, Q. I'm sure you've got a real name other than Q." I prompted, leaning towards him slightly. He didn't move, didn't flinch, just waited for me to get out of his space. "You don't want to tell me."

"No." he said with a smirk, and I backed up, nodding.

"Alright, suit yourself." I took another step back from the two men, tossing them a flirty smirk before turning on my heel and striding towards the glass door. "Goodbye Mr. Bond, Q. I'm sure we'll see each other quite soon."


	2. Chapter 2

Both men's eyes were glued to Miss Jones and her swaying hips as she walked off. At last she was gone, and Q turned back to his laptop.

"Well that was fun." Bond said with a chuckle, leaning on Q's desk.

"Maybe for you." Q muttered in response, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"What do you mean? She was all over you. How could you not enjoy that? I would have."

"I know you would have, Bond, but there's something about her that's just not right. She's arrogant and deceptive and she's hiding something. She uses herself to get whatever she wants and doesn't think about the consequences." Q paused, smiling to himself. "She's you."

Bond raised an eyebrow, almost confused for a moment before he realized Q was right. Suddenly, Bond was all the more interested in her. "If she's me, I'm sure we'll have a bloody good night together."

"I'm guessing that's where the two of you differ. I'm not sure she's quite as eager as you are."

"Oh, she will be. Trust me."

"Oh this matter? I don't think I will."

Now it was Bond's turn to chuckle. "Oh come on, Q. I think you're just jealous."

"Jealous, sir?"

"Yes. That I have a better chance of getting to Jones." In all honesty, Bond didn't want to team up with Jones, or work with her in any way, shape, or form. He simply just wanted to f*ck her. In his mind, it should have happened already, and he didn't doubt it would happen soon enough.

"And what would make you think I want her?" Q challenged.

"Who doesn't?" To that, Q had no answer. "I'll bet you five pounds I can get her first."

Q rolled his eyes, something he seemed to do whenever Bond was around. "I'm not going to do that. It's childish, and if Miss Jones found out she'd probably slaughter both of us." He wasn't joking about the second part.

"She can't kill me and she won't kill you." he said with a shrug. "She wants you to be her Q."

Q once again stopped his work. "What makes you say that?"

"If she's anything like me, she only wants the best weapons for her missions. Why come to you if you weren't the best?"

"Is that a compliment, sir?"

"No, it's not. Now, are you going to bet or not?"

Q remained silent for a moment, biting his lip as he thought it over. Finally, he sighed and continued typing. "Yes, I'm in, but I'll be doing things the right way. Now, is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually. I need a knife." At Q's questioning look, Bond raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just you and Miss Jones seem to be switching weapons."

"Hm. Well, you get started on my knife and I'll get started on figuring out why Miss Jones suddenly needs a gun."

"Don't do anything stupid." Q called out as Bond walked off.

"No promises!" Bond called back with a smirk before heading after Jones.

He was about to walk into the next hallway when he heard hushed voices, so with slightly narrowed eyes he edged his way to the corner of the wall and listened.

"I don't want to talk about this." A voice hissed, undoubtedly Jones. "Especially here in the middle of a freaking hallway where someone could hear us."

"If not now, when?" Clarence hissed back, the African man clearly sounding annoyed. "You'll ignore me."

"Of course I will! You know I don't like you."

"I don't care. M is starting to question you, Emerald. You didn't seem all too thrilled with your assignment."

"And you did? M never mentioned doing something like this. It's wrong."

"Since when do you care about right or wrong? You'll just as easily kill someone else, why not them?"

"I came here hoping to get away from the corrupt leaders and politics of America. I thought things would be different here."

"Hope?" Clarence snorted in amusement. "You, hoping? Hope is an emotion, and since when do you have any of those? Must be that time again."

The crunching sound of a fist colliding with someone's cheekbone echoed through the hallway, then the sound of rustling clothes, more punches, and bodies being slammed against walls. Bond clenched his fists, wanting to jump in and beat the lights out of Clarence, but he stayed where he was. The fight was over soon, with someone on their knees, coughing and panting, but to Bond's surprise it was Clarence who spoke.

"If you were anyone else, I would kill you." he spat.

"I could say the same for you."

"You could never kill me."

"Don't tempt me." came Jones' smart a** answer, and for that she received a slap across the face that echoed in the now silent hallway as Clarence left.

Bond waited for a few moments before stepping out, acting surprised but genuinely concerned as he saw Jones. She couldn't know he'd heard their conversation, nobody could, not until he figured out what it meant. Jones was kneeling on the ground, arms wrapped around her midsection and one cheek marked with a red hand print. Her curly hair had been pinned half up half down, but now a few pieces strayed around her face. She was panting, not noticing Bond walk up behind her.

"Emerald." he said quietly, kneeling down beside her. "Clarence...he did this to you?"

"How much of that did you hear?" she asked, looking up at him finally with a bit of panic in her eyes. Whatever she was hiding was important, and Bond needed to figure out what that was.

"Only a little bit. Why didn't you fight back?" Clarence was right, Jones wasn't the kind of person to hold back from a fight.

"I did, I tried." She sighed, wincing a little. "I can't. M favors Clarence. He'll believe Clarence over me, so if I even try, Clarence will make sure M knows about it. He'll twist it all up and M will make sure I pay for it." She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe she was telling him this. "But whatever, I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You need to see a medic." Bond said, grabbing her gently under her arms and pulling her to her feet.

"No, no medic!" she practically shouted, leaning away from the man. "Nobody can know about this. Just...help me to the bathroom."

Bond didn't answer her right away, just looked her over and sighed before doing as she asked. There was a bathroom in the next hallway, and luckily, it was empty. With one arm around her waist, he helped her into the bathroom and flipped on the light switch before locking the door behind them. He lifted her onto the counter and, to his delighted surprise, she didn't stop him when he took off her blazer and patterned tank top. To her surprise, it was Bond who stopped, his eyes not lingering on her breasts, but instead the oddly shaped scars that adorned her body.

"What happened?" he asked, his hands on her hips as he stood between her legs.

"From an old mission. Our sources were wrong...I got captured." She shook her head as if to get rid of the memories before looking back up at Bond. "Why do you seem so..." She didn't know how to finish her sentence. His look was something between concern, confusion, and desire. "Things like this happen even to the best of us. I'm sure you have scars too."

"Some, but not like these." Her scars were different shapes and sizes, derived from torture tools made to leave permanent scars. He glanced up into her eyes, before down to her ribs where a small purple bruise was forming. "Take in a deep breath." he told her, and she did without wincing this time. Next, his eyes found the hand print on her cheek, his hand moving to cover it. She hissed when he touched it and leaned away, looking down at the counter she was sitting on. "It's swelling up."

"I know." she replied, looking back to Bond.

Their eyes locked for a moment and neither one of them moved, blinked, breathed. Finally, Bond leaned in, wrapping on arm around Jones' tiny waist and pressing his lips to hers in a gentle, desirable kiss. It was slow at first, cautious, but then it became faster, full of lust. Emerald was the one who pulled away, both of them panting slightly. Her hands were on his chest, and she lightly pushed him away.

"You can go now, Mr. Bond." she said, her voice authoritative, but lacking conviction.

"Things were just getting interesting." he murmured with a smirk, his face only a few inches from hers. "Come on, it won't take long."

"So this is the famous Bond sex everybody raves over? Half a$$ed sex in a dirty office bathroom?"

"We could meet up somewhere else, you know, for the real thing." Her arms tensed up like she was about to push him away again, and so he reacted without really thinking. "You're afraid of getting attached." he blurted confidently, hoping it would strike a nerve. It did, and she paused, searching his face for answers.

"No, I'm just not easy."

"You don't want to get attached." he repeated.

"I have no problem with getting attached." she insisted.

"No? Then what is it? Hm?"

"I don't need someone to care about me. You have sex all the time because just for a while you can pretend like someone actually cares about you, that you're not an MI6 agent who's done the things you've done. I don't need to do that, I don't care."

Bond hesitated a second before smirking, but Jones noticed it. "You're wrong. I have sex because I like sex."

"I'm sure you do, but you won't be getting any from me."

Before she could push him away again, he leaned in again, pushing her back against the mirror. One hand wandered up to cup her breast, covered by only a nude colored bra. Emerald couldn't deny that she was starting to want this, his lips and hands sending tingles through her body, but she simply couldn't let it happen. It was a matter of principal. Bond, on the other hand, was feeling wonderfully proud. Hadn't he told Q this would happen? Hadn't he told everyone this would happen? And now it was. He had won, and he was once again going to get laid. But suddenly, Jones pushed him away again, her expression cold and unforgiving.

"You can go now, Mr. Bond." Bond just stood there, eyebrows furrowed as if he didn't understand. "I said, you can go now."

"You Americans are so stubborn." he muttered, straightening out his suit jacket before walking out of the bathroom. Did Bond really just get denied by a woman? Something was wrong, very wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

I stayed in the bathroom for a while after Bond left, slowly putting my clothes back on and fixing my hair while I waited for my cheek to not look so red. I managed not to look flustered, but I was. I could still feel his lips working against mine, his hands like fire across my skin. They were strong, yet gentle, his lips rough, but kind. It distracted me from thinking about my mission for the rest of the day and most of the next. For that, I was grateful. It wasn't until the following afternoon when I next thought about my mission, when a folded piece of paper was slipping under my office door. Confused, I stood up from my chair and strode to the door, picking up the paper and unfolding it.

_"Cottage Cafe, 8:00. -Q"_

So, Q was finished with my gun right on time. I left the office at seven fifteen, hailing a cab and making our way through traffic towards the cafe Q had chosen. I still couldn't figure out why Q couldn't have just given me the gun at the office, why he had to meet up somewhere. Did all Q's do this, or just mine? No, he wasn't my Q. Not yet.

I arrived at Cottage Cafe at exactly eight o'clock to find the place practically empty. It was lit by dim overhead lights and table candles. Q was sitting at a wooden table towards the back corner, playing around on his Iphone and taking up one of the two chairs at the table. He was still dressed in his outfit from work; black dress pants, a white button up shirt, a black tie, and a black cardigan. When he heard me walk up he quickly pocketed the device and jumped up to pull out my seat for me. I smiled and sat down, waiting for him to do the same.

"Miss Jones." he said with a polite nod and smile.

"We're not at work, you know. You can call me Emerald."

"Alright then. Emerald, it's good to see you."

"You too."

I could hear something quietly scraping against the floor under the table, hidden from sight by the long white table cloth. Some kind of case, probably. "It's a Tarus 22ply mouse gun pistol." he said quietly, and I couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. Right down to business, as it should be. "It has a polymer frame and it's only ten point eight ounces, but it's extremely durable. It's small enough to be strapped to the inside of your thigh without anyone noticing, but the built in silencer makes the barrel about an inch longer."

I felt he case nudge my leg and I pulled it closer before bringing it up to my lap. A quick glance revealed nobody watching, so I opened it up. In the protective foam lay a tiny black pistol, and a strap to hold it to my leg. Clever boy.

"Any idea when you'll use it?" he asked.

"Tonight, as a matter of fact." I told him, closing the case.

"Really?" he asked, tilting his head a little and his brows furrowing. "Hm. Well, I take it you won't tell me why? Classified, yes?"

I nodded, smirking. "Yes, classified." I grabbed the case handle and pushed my seat back, ready to thank Q and leave, when he leaned forward. "Thank you, Q, your assistance is much appreciated."

"You're not leaving already, are you? When are you supposed to start the mission?"

I pulled my Iphone from my back pocket and checked the time, pursing my lips. "I don't have to be there until almost ten."

"Well, then stay for a little while." he suggested with a shrug.

"Mind me asking why?" A knowing smirk creeped onto my lips, but I didn't fight it back.

"I just thought it would be nice for us to get to know each other."

My smirk grew bigger as I leaned forward, one elbow resting on the table. "Was this supposed to be a date, Q?"

Now, Q may have seemed like the kind of nerd I was used to back in America, ones who were insecure and awkward, having no social skills or common sense even though they were highly intelligent. That was clearly not the case.

"It's whatever you wish it to be." he said cooly, leaning back in his seat with a smirk of his own. "I personally think work relationships aren't a very wise choice. They're too messy."

"Everything we do is messy. It's part of our job." I countered.

"Your job. My job isn't very messy at all."

I nodded, feeling rather envious. He was right, his job wasn't messy, his job was safe and secure back at base. "Yes, now that was a wise choice, picking that job instead of one like mine."

"I used to want to have your job, you know. Most people think us Q's are rather cowardly for not wanting to work on the field."

"I don't." I said, something in me hardening with anger. "Someone has to do your jobs. And besides, nobody should want to be an agent. It's not as fun as it seems." It really wasn't. We had to kill, torture, seduce, be seduced, use and abuse, get used and abused. It was a constant game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, kill or be killed. One second you could be the cat, one second you could be the mouse.

_"Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you, some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused."_ Eurythmics sang in my mind. If only they knew how right they were.

He smiled, a little half smile that I could call cute. If I wasn't me. Before either of us could say anything more, a waitress walked up, pen and notepad in hand. "May I take your order?" she asked.

I looked between her and Q before sighing. "I'll have a cup of tea and whatever the house special is for tonight."

Realizing I was going to stay, Q's smile only grew bigger as he ordered. "You've never been here before, I take it."

I shook my head. "Nope, never. I don't get out much."

"Shame. When was the last time you went out, for real, not for a mission?"

I unwrapped the cloth napkin that protected the silverware inside, thinking back to before my days as a CIA agent. Gosh, that had to be at least four, five years ago. "Around five years." I said nonchalantly, acting like it didn't bother me, but it did. It made me realize not for the first time just how much my job had taken from me. My friends, my family, they all thought I was dead. You learned not to trust anybody in this type of work, you learned to always watch your back. What kind of relationship-friendly or otherwise- was that,When you were constantly questioning their every move?

"Why?" he asked, seeming a bit confused.

"They told everyone I was dead when I joined the CIA." I said, looking down at the emerald ring on my finger. A gift, from my older brother. "Everyone thinks I'm dead, and like you said, work relationships aren't the best things to get into." I informed him with a forced smile.

"You don't have any friends?"

I shook my head. "Nope. You still have yours though, right?"

He nodded, seeming a bit saddened by this new information. "I can still keep in contact with my family and friends, but they don't know what I really do for a living."

"You're lucky. Cherish them, Q."

He nodded, looking down at the tablecloth for a moment. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

_"All the time!"_ I wanted to exclaim, but that wasn't true. During the day, I could believe the act I put on. I actually was deceptive and almost heartless, beautiful and seductive and dangerous. When I was alone, under the veil of night, I couldn't hide anymore. I did get lonely and I did regret the things I'd done. I got nightmares that I pretended didn't horrify me even though they did. I had my demons just like everyone else in this backwards business. The ones who said they didn't have any were just better at hiding them than others. It's like I was a completely different person, the person I was before the CIA who would of been terrified of herself, never able to wash off the blood that stained her hands. I used to love who I was, but now I hated her. She was weak and pathetic and vulnerable. New me wasn't perfect either.

"Sometimes." I finally replied. "But you get used to it after a while."

"That's not something someone should ever have to say." Q said, surprising me. His voice was quiet, soft. It sounded like he really meant it, like that someone was referring to one person in particular, and by the look on his face he could of fooled me.

"Well, thanks, but there are many people out there who would care to disagree." I pretended not to be bothered by his comment, but it was burning me right to the core. What did he want from me? Surely he wasn't being kind just because. He was up to something, probably working for Bond. But...what if he really was just a kind person? I couldn't tell, and though I was suspicious I found myself wanting to believe him. He seemed to harmless, so genuinely concerned and caring.

People like him were the most dangerous kind.

"Well, they must be incredibly cold hearted." he said, not realizing how true his words rung.

"Most of us are."

"Yes, I've come to notice that.

Close to two hours later, Q and I stood outside the cafe, waiting for a taxi. I had to get to my mission, and I assumed Q was heading to his apartment. I refused to call them flats. The rest of our evening had been composed of food and idle chit chat, asking questions and receiving riddled answers. Q was not at all like the American nerd, socially awkward (especially around women) with no sense of humor, whereas Q had that classic, dry British humor. He was very observant and professional, yet somehow still funny and not awkward in the slightest. One could possibly call him cute, in that British nerdy kind of way. But it was more than that, his personality and the way he was confident but shy at the same time.

Q knew who he was, and he was proud of who he was. He knew where he'd been and what he'd had was real, and he knew which path he wanted to take forward. He had a very sharp sense of right and wrong, though often didn't voice it at work. If I hadn't been assigned to possibly kill him, if I wasn't an MI6/former CIA agent who had enemies and horrors beyond his imagination, I would of wanted to be his friend. But who was I kidding? I already did want to be his friend. I wanted to be able to trust him after years of constantly watching my back, but that's not a possibility. Not now, not ever. That thought squashed all hope and thought of finding a way to finally open up.

"Thank you, Q, for the gun and for dinner." I said politely.

He smiled down at me and I wanted to truly smile back, but I made sure it didn't reach my eyes. "Thank you for deciding to stay. I look forward to doing it again sometime." he said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I shook it before stepping to the curb and hailing a taxi.I gave Q a nod before stepping in and buckling my seat belt. Old habit. "Seven blocks down, towards the bank." I told the driver. He nodded and off we went through downtown London traffic. The farther away I got from the cafe, the easier it was to focus on my mission. According to the file, Melissa D'Angelo always stopped at the bank on Thursday nights, right before the ten p.m closing time. Her apartment was only three blocks away from there, and she walked home unless it was raining.

I had changed into black skinny jeans, a black v-neck, and my black leather jacket before meeting Q so I could head straight to my mission. I pulled leather gloves out of one of the many jacket pockets and slipping them on, then counted out cash for the cab driver. He pulled up a block away from the bank and I handed him to cash before stepping out, not forgetting my case. I made my way into a little alley, standing back just far enough to be hidden by the shadows. I opened up the case and pulled out my new gun, glad to find it fit perfectly in my grip. I cocked it and waited for D'Angelo.

The minutes ticked by, dragging out for what seemed like ever. I wasn't a very patient person, but training had taught me to wait. So I did. Five minutes, ten, and then footsteps sounded by the corner. I raised my gun as someone came into view, and in the dim light I could make out D'Angelo's silhouette. I pulled the trigger, felt the gun buck in my hands, saw the blood squirt from D'Angelo's head, but there was little sound to accompany it. I ran forward and caught her body before her head hit the floor, leaving behind little blood as I dragged her body to the dumpster and threw it in. I covered the body with trash bags and then threw away my gloves. They were dirty now, and I had fifty more pairs at my apartment. There was no reason to keep them.

I replaced my gun in it's case and walked around to the front of the bank, hailing another cab. I wasn't feeling any remorse, guilt, or horror. My heart felt like stone and ice in my chest; heavy, cold, and unfeeling. Somewhere inside of me, I was crying over the life I had just taken, not innocent by any society standard but innocent by mine. That somewhere was deep and locked away though, leaving me with a shiver down my spine at the very most. To most of me, she was just 005, guilty like the rest of us with no real purpose in the world except to lie, cheat, steal, and kill. But to the tiny locked away part of me, she was Melissa D'Angelo, who was just doing her job like the rest of us.

I simply told myself that one agent was down and I only had four more to go. However, there was one I was going to keep alive, just because he would entertain me.


	4. Chapter 4

Q glanced over his shoulder as he heard the door to the Quartermaster Division open. Bond strode in, his classic all business yet somehow still lighthearted look on his face. "You have my gun?" he asked, leaning on Q's desk and looking at the younger man expectantly.

"Indeed I do." Q replied, not looking away from his laptop. His typing was slower than usual and he was making more errors, often having to hit the backspace button.

"May I have it?" Bond asked after a moment of waiting.

Q's eyes went wide and he hopped up, shaking his head. "Right, sorry."

Bond just watched with narrowed eyes as Q went to retrieve a thin case from another table across the room. He returned a few seconds later and handed the case to Bond, who didn't open it up right away like he normally did. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, searching Q's face for answers. "What's distracting you? And don't lie to me." As if he even had to say that.

At first, the Quartermaster seemed hesitant to speak, but then he smirked proudly. "I had dinner with Miss Jones last night."

"Did you now?" Bond asked, acting sarcastically surprised.

"Yes I did."

"And how'd it go?"

"Good, I think. She originally just came for her gun, but she ended up staying a few hours longer. I think we got to know each other quite well."

To this, Bond smirked. "Alright 's her favorite color? Age? Birthday? Favorite food? Movie, song, book? What about her personal life? Her family? Did she tell you any of that?"

"Some of that." he answered, confused by Bond's interrogating.

"And how much of that does she know about you?"

"About the same."

"She's playing you." he said matter of factly. "Sorry, kid."

"Aren't we playing her, too? With this whole bet?"

"If that's how you want to view it, go ahead. I'll be getting laid by time you figure that out."

Q smirked, raising an eyebrow. "So confident?"

"Yes, actually. We made out in the bathroom two days ago." Now it was Bond's turn to be proud. He smirk mischievously, his blue eyes dancing as Q's face fell.

"How did that happen?"

"She got into a scuffle with Barker and I offered to make sure she was okay. Just a bruised rib, she's fine." He had no qualms about leaking the information Jones had wanted to stay secret. It's not like Q was going to tell anyone. Besides, Bond wanted to make sure Q knew he was going to loose this bet. It was almost unfair.

"You saw her shirtless?" Q hissed in shock, eyebrows shooting up and glasses slipping down his nose.

"Yes, yes I did. She has soft skin and plenty of tits for both of us." Bond said with a smirk, teasing Q and patting him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, maybe I'll save you some."

Q didn't even answer, just stood there looking both confused and infuriated. After a moment, he pulled his glasses back up and cleared his throat. "No thank you. I will not take your leftovers."

"You will this time."

All the sudden, Bond's name was being called from across the room. The two men turned to see Moneypenny running towards them, looking panicked. All eyes were on her as she tried to regain her breath. "D'Angelo." she said, one hand over her heart. "005...she was just found in the back of a garbage truck. Someone's killed D'Angelo."

The room went silent before hushed words of fright took over. Bond's smug expression was wiped away, leaving behind one of anger and confusion. He exchanged a glance with Q before gently holding Moneypenny by her arms. None of this made any sense. 005 was one of the few agents who hadn't any known enemies. She only performed small missions, nothing major like Bond.

"It was no accident." Moneypenny muttered, answering Bond's unasked question. "She was shot right in the head."

Bond inhaled, thinking this all over. Who would shot D'Angelo? Was anybody else going to be targeted, and if so, who? When? Most importantly, why? Bond couldn't help but remember Clarence and Emerald's conversation before the fight, about missions and killing people. Could one of them be responsible? Bond pushed away the thought, telling himself it at least wasn't Emerald, but that seed of doubt was now rooted.

Everyone at MI6 was more on edge than ever, and two days later another death was reported on agent 009. Whoever was doing this was obviously wanted their kills to be found, they wanted to evoke fear and uncertainty through the agency. Well, it was working. The killer was clearly well trained and smart. They left no evidence and never killed in line of a security camera. This phantom killer had a list, no doubt, and had access to the information about these agents.

Rumors were whispered around MI6 and they spread like the plague. One day the phantom killer was an old agent out for revenge, the next it was some foreign group that had old blood with the agency. Maybe it was a mole, maybe it was a rogue agent. Whoever it was wasn't waiting around to finish this mission. Within a week and a half, four agents were dead, and now many feared for their lives. Though Bond didn't seem like it and wouldn't admit it, he too was on edge. All kills had been made on odd numbered agents. 001,003,005, and 009. The only one who had been so far spared was 007. Everyone was waiting for him to just stop showing up one day, but it didn't happen.

The days turned into weeks and Bond still hung around. Why? How? Why was Bond so special that he got to keep his life? Was he in on the mission to kill these agents? Nobody outright blamed Bond, but it was clear they did from the look in their eyes and the untrusting clip of their words as they spoke to him. Among the rumors were speculations of a cancelled gala with the government. The gala had been to raise money for the agency in honor of the old M, but with their comrades gone nobody really wanted to go. Eventually, the announcement was made that the gala would go on, and now the scramble was to find the best suit or dress.

In the weeks following D'Angelo's death, both Bond and Q had met up a few times with Miss Jones, their ways of trying to get her polar opposites. Bond was outright flirty and direct with his motives, arrogant, expecting Emerald to just fall on her back. Q was much more subtle about it, being friendly and king, being a gentleman about it. Along the way, both men found themselves wanting Emerald for not only the bet, but for themselves, for her.

Emerald both infuriated and excited Bond. The two were so much alike they hated but lusted for each other at the same time. Bond wanted what the Americans would call a flirtationship, or better yet, a friend with benefits. Once he had gotten what he wanted, he could see himself as one of those two things with Emerald. Q, on the other hand, felt himself desiring Emerald for not only her body, but just her. To him, this became about breaking down her walls, getting her to open up and trust him. He thought of her as his friend, but wanting her as more. Those brief dinners outside of work left him in both good and bad spirits. He ended up questioning everything she said, everything she did. Had that smile really been authentic? Did her words ring true? What if Bond was right and she was just playing him? But what if it was all real? Every smile, every laugh, every flirty comment?

Both men thought they had an excellent chance and were going to win the bet. And even if they didn't, something good was bound to come from this. Either way it was a win win situation, either way they both got what they wanted. What could go wrong?


	5. Chapter 5

I stepped out of the taxi once we reached the hotel hosting MI6 gala. I was a wearing a slightly off white floor length dress with pastel green designs embroidered under the bust line and down the center of the dress. The dress was fitting until under my hips, where it flared out but wasn't puffy. It was sleeveless and had a very deep neckline. I wore pastel green peep toes, with a clutch purse in the same color, peridot earrings and necklace. My hair was in loose curls and all down, my makeup simple. Black liquid eyeliner on my top lids-slightly catwinged- mascara, and foundation. If I blushed, I wanted it to be real, not because of some pink powder. I had a light pink lip gloss on, with a mango and mint flavored clear coat on top of that. I walked into the building with my head held high and shoulders back, shining with the flirtatious confidence I was feeling. Heads turned as I walked into the ballroom, to which I couldn't help but smirk. I was going to have fun tonight. And thank god too.

My last few weeks hadn't been so good. I'd killed all the agents on my list except for one, to which M had many objections. I killed them all too quickly, I wasn't supposed to let anyone find the bodies, I hadn't killed Bond yet, blah blah blah. I honestly didn't want to kill Bond, though. He was such an amazing agent, and that kind of talent couldn't go to waste. Besides, I still wasn't done with him yet. Not only was my head on the chopping block with M and Bond was starting to question me about the deaths, I didn't want to have killed those agents. This wasn't how M said things were going to be, he never said anything about mass murdering good agents just so we could replace them. I felt like M's puppet, and I hated that.

Another thing I was hating? Q. Well, not Q himself, but whatever it was I was feeling towards him. We'd met up again a few times, and each time I felt oddly refreshed, but still suspicious. I wanted to trust him, I wanted to believe he wasn't just trying to get information out of me for Bond. I wanted to believe he wasn't faking this, that he was really wanting to get to know me. But what was the point? I couldn't have friends anyway.

I walked through the mingling crowd, getting pulled aside here and there to chit chat. I just wanted to get to the bar and have a drink, but that didn't happen for quite some time. By time I made it to the bar, people were already dancing. I ordered an apple martini and happily sipped at it while watching the crowd. Secretive agents with secretive government big wigs, dressed in expensive designer clothes and dancing to the soft classical music. It was boring as hell from my perspective, (my funeral was probably more interesting than this) but I wondered what kind of shady deals were being made, what information being shared.

I finished a martini and a half before Q found me. "Emerald! It's lovely to see you." he said, as if surprised to see me. He gave me a once over before shaking my head, his eyes meeting mine. "You look amazing." It somehow meant more coming from him.

I smiled in return, soft and happy. "Thank you. You don't look too shabby yourself."

"I'll take that as a compliment." he said with a chuckle. "Would you care to dance?"

I took another sip of my martini before taking his outstretched hand. "Don't mind if I do."

He guided me through the crowd to the dance floor, pulling me to him with gentle hands, one holding one of mine and the other resting lightly on my hip. She shuffled to the slow music like everyone else, our bodies pressing but not mushed together. Step, step, step, step.

"You looked incredibly bored." he said quietly to me, and I smirked.

"Were you watching me?" I teased, one eyebrow raised.

"No, if I was, you'd know. I've never been very stealthy."

"That's alright, you don't need to be."

"Good thing."

We stepped on in silence, a comfortable one. Cheesy as it may sound, our bodies did the talking for us. His hands were soft on me, our faces turned towards each other-cheeks almost touching- and our breathing matched in pace. Slowly, we got closer, and closer, our movements more intimate than sexual. I let my mind go blank and enjoy this moment, a moment Bond would probably be extremely envious of. I could just close my eyes and pretend I wasn't me, pretend I was someone who was loved, and I didn't need sex to do it.

All too soon, the song changed into something more fast paced. The couples around us changed their dance to match the song and we followed their lead. One, two, three, one, two three, spin, twirl out, together. The first time we tried it we tripped over each others feet and when we tried to spin our arms got all tangled it. It was a complete fail, but I wasn't embarrassed, and he didn't seem so either. We just laughed and tried again. Our second attempt was much better. We enjoyed this dance too, quietly giggling to ourselves every time we screwed up. On our next twirl, I felt a strong pair of hands grab my waist, yanking me away from Q. I tensed and raised a fist, only to have my wrist grabbed. It took me a moment to realize it was Bond.

He smirked at Q over my head, something teasing in his eyes that I didn't quite understand. "I'll take it from here, but I think Eve is available."

I looked over my shoulder at Q, an apologetic look on my face. _"I'm sorry,"_ I mouthed, and he just nodded before disappearing into the crowd. "You're an ass." I hissed to Bond, slapping him on the shoulder as I placed my hand there and glaring up at him with all the strength I could muster.

"Has anybody ever told you you're quite attractive when you're angry? I can't take you seriously when you flare your nose like that." he teased.

I looked away from him at the spinning room around us as we danced. "My nose does not flare." Yes it did.

"You looked utterly pathetic dancing with Q, both of you tripping over your own feet. It was like something from a first school dance. I thought I'd come and save you."

I rolled my eyes, trying to stay angry with him as his hand traveled up my waist to my back. "I don't need saving." At least not from Q.

"Yes you do." he said into my ear, sending chills down my spine.

The song changed, and with it, our dance. Onetwothreeonetwothreeonetwo three dip. His hand then slid down to my ass as he dipped me. He didn't say anything, but his mischievous smirk and blue eyes spoke volumes. He pulled me up, our bodies pressed together with no chance of separation. I quickened my steps, he added a few new ones, spins and twirls allowing his hand to wander wherever it pleased. Surprisingly, I was okay with that. Before long, we were dancing a whole new dance from everyone else. Bond spun me out, snapping me back in and then dipping me again. As he pulled me up he let his face trail along my neck, his warm breath giving me goosebumps. I fought down the fluttery feeling that stirred low in my stomach.

His face was only an inch from mine, one arm wrapped around my waist and mine around his neck. "Meet me in room three zero five in ten minutes." he murmured so only I could hear.

This cocky little bastard was expecting someone to melt to his smooth moves tonight. He'd rented a room just to be able to f*ck. Sly devil.

"And if I don't?" I challenged. Would I be that girl tonight, the one to melt in his arms?

He simply smirked, looking down at me with a look that said, _"You won't."_ His eyes flashed as he spoke. "I'll make sure it hurts."


	6. Chapter 6

Clarence meandered through the gala, conversing with government big wigs and MI6 donors. Sophisticated, empty words flowed out of his mouth without any thought. He didn't care about any of this, here was here for one reason only.

_It was another noon meeting, but this time when Clarence walked in M started without waiting for Jones. "Has Jones mentioned anything about her assignment to you?" the older man asked, raising an eyebrow and his forehead wrinkling up as he leaned back in his seat._

_Clarence narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "No. Should she have?"_

_"Not necessarily." M replied with a shrug. "But you know she's not pleased with it. Yes?"_

_The agent just nodded. "It was obvious."_

_"Yes, it was. She left the bodies to be discovered, she hasn't killed Bond. She's up to something, and if not now, she will be eventually."_

_It sounded possible to Clarence. Emerald wasn't one who just buckled down and followed orders, she always had something up her sleeve._

_"She wants them to blame us, she wants to feed their fire, so when the time is right she can put it out and be their hero."_

_"Jones? A hero?" This amused Clarence, because to him that woman was anything[/i] but [i]a hero. She was possibly the most horrible person he'd ever met. One look through her file and he knew he was dealing with someone dangerous, someone strong, someone who did things her way. He was dealing with another 007._

_"You know how those Americans are." M said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Always trying to save someone. No matter, I want her gone. Get rid of her by any means necessary, and let the body be found. If one of my own has died, maybe their suspicions will be turned another way."_

_Clarence had to fight to keep a smirk off his face, so he simply nodded. "Yes sir."_

But Clarence wasn't going to just kill her. He held too many grudges against her to just make this a simple assignment. He was going to kill her slowly, in the most twisted ways he could conjure up, in ways she would kill him. He'd never felt this before, this blood lust, this utter hatred, but there was just something about Jones that made his very blood boil.

At last, the agent spotted Emerald, facing the crowd, leaning against the bar with a martini in her hand and a smirk on her lips. Clarence excused himself from his current conversation and started towards the gem eyed woman, when suddenly Q had beat him to it. A few words were exchanged before they headed onto the dance floor. By time he found her in the bustling crowd she was dancing with Bond, the two of them demanding attention as they took control. Clarence could see Q on the other side of the floor, looking rather envious and disappointed. He wanted to look into it, but had to focus on the task at hand. When his target was left alone, he stated forward only to have her disappear in the crowd. Did she know he was following her, or was this simply ill luck? Clarence couldn't be sure, but he didn't see her for the rest of the night.

He was more than annoyed as he drove to her flat, parking on a side street and entering the building through the back. M had provided all of Jones' information, all Clarence had to do was use it. He found his way to her flat within a few minutes, picking the lock of flat seven oh seven and walking in on silent feet, pistol at the ready. A quick scan of the living quarters revealed Emerald to still be out, making Clarence hiss curses under his breath. Now he had to wait for her return, but where?

Bond sat in his office, smirking and thinking about last night when he was supposed to be filling out paperwork. He'd been sitting there all morning, deciding if he should collect his five pounds from Q or not, that triumphant smirk plastered to his face. Moneypenny walked in then, not even bothering to know and plopping more papers on his desk. She turned to leave but stopped when she saw the expression on his face.

"What happened now? Why are you in such a good mood?" she asked, hand on her hip as she looked sternly but bemusedly down at James.

"Not what, Eve. Who." he replied with dancing eyebrows.

"oh God." was all the secretary could mutter with a roll of her eyes. "Who now?"

"Well, Agent Jones, of course."

Moneypenny just blinked, not sure she'd heard right, but the look on his confirmed she had. "But...she...you...I thought..."

"Don't act so surprised, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You know I have to try them all." he teased himself, putting down his pen and rising from his chair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to collect five pounds from my Quartermaster."

"I'm not even going to ask." she muttered with a shake of her head.

Bond left her to finish his paperwork, making his way down to the Q Division with a little extra spring in his step. He found it a bit odd that he hadn't seen Jones on his way over, but figured she was probably in a meeting or using up all of the sugar in the break room. The thought made him chuckle lightly to himself.

"Good morning, Q!" he greeted cheerily as he walked into the Q wing. Heads had stopped turning a long time ago when Q was called aloud down here. However, Q knew his agent's voice, but this time didn't turn around to smile or even nod to the man.

"Bond." he replied stiffly, his voice lacking that usual Q spark.

"Something bothering you?" Of course there was, and Bond already knew what, but what was the fun in not getting Q to admit it?

"No sir, just busy."

"Sure. Now, I hope you have five pounds ready. My wallet is feeling a bit light today."

To this, Q stopped, looking up at the agent with a tight calm, like he was struggling to keep that way. "You...won?"

Bond nodded, clapping Q on the back. "I told you I would. Last night, during the gala. It was quite a fun time."

Q looked down at his keyboard, exhaling and his shoulders dropping a bit more than they should have. Silently, he pulled out his wallet and handed Bond the money, not even bothering to hide his disappointment.

"Oh, Q, really. You'll get there one day."

That might be true, but it wouldn't be the same, knowing Bond had gotten her first. Their interactions might only been fueled by lust, but he would forever be Emerald's second.

"Have you seen Emerald today?" Bond asked, pocketing the money and leaning on Q's desk.

Q's brows furrowed at this and he finally met Bond's eyes. "No. Haven't you normally seen her by now?"

"Yes, but she could be hiding, embarrassed after last night...but you haven't seen her either?"

"No." Q replied, both of them falling silent. They were both thinking the same dangerous thing, but neither wanted to say it. With all the dead agents showing up, and Emerald not coming to work today, she could be the next to pop up."You think she's..." Q said finally, breaking the tense silence.

"No, of course not." Bond said, acting sure but even Q could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "She's behind this, after all."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Bond corrected, realizing he'd spoken the last part aloud.

"You think she's responsible. Why?"

"Just trust me, Q. She's up to something."

"She's working with Mallory, of course she is."

"No, there's something more." Bond insisted. After the conversation he heard in the hall between Clarence and Emerald and the agents showing up, he was convinced they were somehow connected. They both fell silent again, Bond staring at the tile and Q at his computer desktop. "I'm sure she's fine, but I'll look into it."

"You do that. I'll call her after work."

But after work might already be too late.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up to an empty bed. Light spilled out from the bathroom where James was standing in front of the mirror, spraying on cologne. He'd already showered, a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist and a new suit hanging in the closet. So the prick had brought an extra change of clothes too.

"So you were expecting this to happen?" I called out groggily, smirking tiredly.

"If not you, then someone else." he told me with a teasing shrug.

I just sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I didn't bring an overnight bag. I don't have an extra change of clothes or anything."

"I'll drive you home." he said with a nod. "And I got you a coffee from downstairs."

I look over at the nightstand and reached for the Styrofoam cup that streamed on top of it. I took a sip, surprised to find cream and sugar already in it. "How did you know what I like in my coffee? Have you been you stalking me, Bond?" I was only half kidding.

"Because you stand in the break room for five minutes while you use up all of our sugar." he teased, but it was true. I did use a lot of sugar.

"Well thanks."

I finished my coffee and got dressed, braiding my messy hair until it was manageable. It was still early enough that not too many people were heading to work so Bond drove me home, giving me one last steamy kiss before I left. I took the back way into my apartment building so I didn't accidentally run into someone. I didn't bother putting my dress, shoes, or clutch away once I got inside, I just dumped it all on my bed and got into the shower. I took my time, letting the hot water soothe my muscles.

By time I got out, I was all pruney but perfectly clean. I was supposed to be at work by now, so I started to hurry. I quickly clipped back my hair in a half up half down do, put on my makeup with practiced precision, and threw on black skinnys and a silky green blouse. After one last look in the mirror, I grabbed my clutch, not having time to switch all of my things back into my regular purse, and opened my bedroom door. All I needed was something from the kitchen to hold me until lunch, but instead of being greeting by an empty hallway, I was instead greeted by a very unexpected face. Clarence. I slammed the door in his face and ran back to my dresser, opening the drawers where I had all of my weapons, only to find them empty. My knives, my knives, where the hell were my knives?

"Looking for something?" Clarence hissed, opening his suit jacket to show me my knives and newly acquired gun.

"How long have you been here?" I blurted, slamming shut the drawers as I turned to face him.

"Long enough to take all your weapons and have breakfast while you showered."

I snarled, fists clenching. "What the fuck do you want?"

"M sent me to kill you, obviously. Why oh why would he kill one of his own agents?" he asked sarcastically, and suddenly it all clicked into place. Mallory wanted me to take the fall. If I was found dead, most of the suspicion would be diverted to another person of interest, most likely Bond since he was the only one left alive.

"He can't do this!" I exclaimed. Mallory knew my secret, that's why he brought me from America! How could he do this to me, his own daughter?!

"Oh, but he can." Clarence pulled his own pistol from his jacket, aiming and firing in about two seconds flat.

I jumped out of the way but not fast enough, the bullet grazing my arm. I felt the sting but hardly flinched, not with all the adrenaline pumping through me. I charged him, aiming a roundhouse kick at his face. He backed up and I ended up hitting his hand, which was just as good because the gun flew from his hand and landed with a soft thud on my carpet. He lunged for it, but I lunged for him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him beneath me. I crossed my arms across his neck, grabbing the collar of his suit and pulling it tight around his neck, choking him.

"You will not kill me." I hissed in his face, to which he smirked.

He got one arm out from under me, sweeping it across to push my head into the wall. I felt pain explode across my skull, once, twice, and then-

I blinked my eyes open, a splitting headache the first thing that registered. Sticky, half dried blood coated my left arm. I tried to touch it, only to feel the cold restraint and rattle of chains. I started to remember Clarence's attack, my mind clearing, and I tried to stand, move, something, but my arms and legs had been chained to a very uncomfortable wooden chair. I was in some small room, made of wood, and dimly illuminated by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling by a string. I could make out a figure in the corner, and once they realized I was awake they slowly started towards me.

"I thought M's assignment was to kill me, not detain me." I growled.

"It was, and I will kill you, but slowly. Nobody will ever find out anyway." he replied arrogantly. He stood in front of me, dark eyes even darker and glinting with a twisted excitement. "I've been waiting a long time for this." he told me with a low, dark chuckle.

"Why? What have I done to you?"

"Nothing, necessarily, you're just a bitch. Always trying to steal my spotlight-"

"I don't have to try." I taunted with a smirk, for which I earned a back handed slap across the face. "Wow, scary." Another. My cheek stung badly and I knew a bruise would soon be left in it's place, but I continued on."

"I'll get out of here eventually."

"No you won't."

A punch to the gut, yanking on my hair, a kick to my knees. I doubled over in my chair, coughing and gasping for air as he punched me in the gut again. He wound his fingers in my hair, pulling it down so I was forced to look up at his dark smirk. I spit blood in his face and he snarled, wiping it on his sleeve and delivering a blow to my ribs.

"I've been beaten before." I wheezed. "This doesn't phase me."

"No?" He pulled one of my own daggers from his jacket, dragging the blade along my jaw and down my neck. "Have you ever been bled before?" he asked quietly, dragging the blade lower, between my breasts and lightly pressing the tip into me, cutting my shirt and piercing my skin. It felt like a needle, something I'd hated since I was a child. He saw the slight movement of my foot as I tried to kick out at him, only to be held back by the chains. "I'll take that as a no, but I can save that for tomorrow."

He twisted the tip of the blade further, against my sternum. I could hear the metal grinding against my bone and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. He finally retreated the blade, only to poke it again down my stomach, along my arms and legs, the parts of my back that weren't hidden by the chair. The constant needle like pricking over and over again. It was driving me mad. I glared at Clarence, flinching every time the blade tip dug into me, boiling with hate and rage.

It seemed like hours before he finally stopped, little drops of blood staining my clothes. I sat dead still, watching Clarence with blood thirsty eyes. I wanted to break free of these chains and tackle him to the ground. I wanted to beat him to a pulp and then snap his neck. I could already feel the violent jerk of his head beneath my empty hands.

Clarence wiped the blade clean on my shirt and put it back in his jacket pocket, reaching out to hold my face by my cheeks. "I'm sure you'll be fine by yourself here, hm? See you in the morning, Jones." His voice was cheery, triumphant. It made me want to puke.

He slapped my face away and walked out through a door on my right, leaving me alone in the little room with no windows. I just sat there, screaming my frustrations to the walls and struggling in my bonds. How could I have let such a thing happen? Why didn't I check my apartment before getting in the shower? Why didn't I do this? I should have done that. No matter how many times I questioned or reprimanded myself it wouldn't make a difference now. I just needed to get out of here.

After a while, I stopped struggling. The chains weren't going to loosen and I wasn't getting out without breaking one of my thumbs. It wasn't worth it, not yet. My eyelids grew heavy, stomach roaring and body sore. Sleep came and went, leaving me confused about what was a dream and what was reality.


	8. Chapter 8

At about six that evening Bond made his way back down to the Q Division, wondering if the younger man had been able to get a hold on Emerald. Nobody had seen her today, and the unusual bounty of sugar in the break room only confirmed her absence. Bond tried to call, both her work Blackberry and personal phone, but she didn't answer. Barker had come into work late that morning, looking like he hadn't slept all night and a bruise on his cheek, a fresh one. This only added to Bond's suspicion that something was wrong. Who, besides himself and Emerald, would strike out against Clarence? He hadn't done so, which only left one suspect, who strangely was missing. The agent thought about confronting Clarence, but he couldn't see it ending very well.

As James turned down another hallway he spotted Q, who was looking for him. "Ah, Bond." the other man greeted. "I was just coming to speak with you."

"Any luck?"

"No, she won't answer my calls."

"I couldn't reach her either. Nobody's seen her."

A frown pulled at Q's lips as he tried not to think the worst, but he couldn't help it. "It's only a matter of time then." he muttered quietly.

"Until what?" Bond asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Until someone finds her body."

Bond just stood there, hands in his pockets. If Emerald really was missing, like the other agents had been before their bodies were found, then Q was right. It was only a matter of time. Another person might have thought such a thing impossible, that surely somehow Emerald was still alive. But to believe such things required hope and optimism, something Bond had learned to give up quite a long time ago. Bond only believed in the facts now, what was real. Hopes got you killed, reality saved your sorry a**.

"Do you ever think of leaving?" Q asked, looking up at Bond with a bit of concern.

"Everyday."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because eventually the storm blows over. You learn to hunker down and find someplace where the current can't drag you under. Leaving isn't worth the risk."

"Some people don't get so lucky, though."

"It's not about luck, Q. It's skills and wits and smarts, knowing what to get involved in and knowing what not to. Just stick with me and you'll be fine."

"How can you be so sure it's a storm you can handle?" Q asked skeptically.

"I've dealt with plenty of storms like Mallory before, I stopped being afraid of them a long time ago. You'd be wise to do the same."

Q just nodded, putting his hands in his pockets as well. "Weather permitting, I'll see you tomorrow." he said, rocking back on his heels.

"Tomorrow then."

And with that the two men parted ways, unsure of what lie ahead but determined not to get dragged under.

Clarence Barker returned to the attic the following morning, once he'd gotten a cup of tea. He left all of Emerald's weapons in his own flat, all except two daggers, and purchased another chain from the hardware store. As the key turned in the attic Emerald's head snapped up, narrowing her eyes at the smirk that cursed Clarence's lips.

"Come to finally end me?" she asked, voice a bit hoarse and expression a bit more tired than hateful.

"Not today, but I'll leave you a dagger in case you wish to finish the job yourself."

To this, she simply raised an eyebrow. Barker definitely had something planned, but what? She couldn't tell. She watched as he unraveled the new chain and threw one end over one of the wooden rafters before wrapping the other end of the chain around Emerald's ankles, whistling a happy tune.

"Going to use me as a punching bag? Clever." she snipped.

"Oh no, not a punching bag." he chuckled, pulling out a knife and dragging the blade across her neck slowly. With a flick of his wrist he cut a small slit at the base of her throat, near her collar bone. "I'm going to bleed you like the animal you are." He chuckled again as he watched Emerald struggle in her chair.

"You wouldn't! We both know you can't stomach the sight of me dangling from a chain and bleeding my guts out." she spat, eyes wild and enraged.

"I could too." he spat back, punching her in the gut with all he had.

As she doubled over, wheezing for breath, he undid the chains that held her to the chair and walking to the other side of the room. He took a hold of the end of the chain that was thrown over the rafters and pulled down on it, Emerald being dragged off the chair. She kicked her feet, trying to kick off the chain that bound her ankles, but he yanked down again, her feet being lifted into the air. Another few yanks and she was fully suspended in the air. What once had been a slow trickle of blood down her neck was now a river, spilling down up her neck, off her chin, and onto the floor. Splat, splat, splat against the wooden floors.

The woman's face flushed red, eyes wide and mouth gaping open as she gasped for air. She put her hands to her neck, trying to stop the blood, but her life just continued to slip through her fingers. It wasn't long before she let out a moan, which then turned into a small, pained, frustrated scream.

"How long will it take for you to be bone dry?" Clarence asked once she was silent again, leaning back and using his body weight to hold the chain.

"Thirty minutes." she gasped, tears falling welling in her eyes and dripping off her lashes. The water vanished in the blood pooling beneath her.

Clarence just watched as she dangled there, little pained and furious animalistic noises ripping from her throat, blood dripping off her. She spat curses at him, her voice strong at first, scaring him, until he remembered he was in total control. He laughed, soft at first, then louder, menacing. He'd hated Emerald ever since he'd first met her nearly eight months ago. She had been a threat, a temptation, stealing his most important mission and winning over M's favor. Now the tables were turning in his favor once more. No more would she get his jobs, no more would she live. This is what he had been waiting for.

As the minutes ticked by she grew silent, still except for the slight expanding of her rib cage as she struggled to breath. Her eyes slowly started to close, every breath gurgling with blood. After fifteen minutes exactly, he lowered her to the ground, not bothering to move her out of her own blood or remove the chain around her ankles. He slowly walked to stand over her, her dull defiant eyes trying to focus on him, her skin pale and clammy. The dim light shadowed Clarence's face in a way that made Emerald's blurred vision see him as a monster, a monster of a man she needed to get away, but no matter how hard her fuzzy mind tried to make her body move, it wouldn't.

"I'll leave you alive for now," he taunted, feeling more powerful than ever and filled with a dark joy. "but expect worse tomorrow." He pulled the other dagger from his coat and crouched down beside her, placing the hilt in her bloody, limp hand. "You can spare yourself the trouble, however. I won't tell anyone you took the easy way out." He curled her fingers around the blade, patting them before standing straight and walking towards the door. "Such a shame you had to be the one to work with me. Such a waste of talent." he said as if he were disappointed.

He felt the need to rush back to MI6 and brag about his victory, but alas, he had to keep silent. One day the world would know, though, they would know how he had bested Agent 008. But until then, he'd have to wait.


	9. Chapter 9

The hilt of my blade felt warm in hand, my eyes trailing over it hungrily. Clarence had left the light on so I could see my own blood around me, deep crimson and think, almost like syrup. I could feel the warm, sticky substance seeping through my clothes, wetting my hair. I just felt weak, so exhausted that even breathing was a chore. Clarence would be back tomorrow morning, and he said it would be worse, but what could be worse than this? I didn't know if I was going to make it through this, much less whatever he still had up his sleeve. I was a goner. But why not try to fight back?

Because I couldn't, not this time. He wanted me to deny his offer of killing myself so that he could do it, so he could drag this out longer. I didn't want to take my own life, but if I did, then his game would be over. I would of won. I could just picture his expression when he saw me here dead, dagger protruding from my chest. But I could never... Suddenly, one thought burst to the front of my mind, extinguishing all others.

_"What do you have left to live for anyway?"_

I didn't remember passing out, just trying to lift the dagger so I could plunge it into my chest, but I was too weak, the dagger too heavy. There were no windows in the attic so I couldn't tell what time of day it was, but I only hoped it was night. The blood I'd been lying in was now dried up, all over me as well, and I moved to get out of it. Sitting up, then unwrapping the heavy chains from my ankles and crawling over to the wall. I curled up against it, dagger still clutched in my hand. For a moment I was stricken with fear as I remembered my life slipping through my fingers, but I was alive for now and that was enough. I needed to get out of here, but was I strong enough to break down the door and get back to MI6?

I wasn't going home, that was for sure. I was going to MI6, just like this, bruised and bloody and battered, so I could warn the other agents about Mallory. He was going to ruin MI6 with his new agents, corrupt the system and it would all go to sh*t. Someone had to believe me, how could they not? I was the proof, the look on Mallory and Clarence's faces would only help my cause. They had to believe me.

After a while of sitting against the wall I stood up on shaky legs, ignoring the dots that started in my vision and pounding of my head. I walked to the door, leaning on the wall for support, and just studied it for a moment. I tried to turn the knob, but of course, it was locked. I slid my blade between the door frame and the door itself, sawing through the lock before it finally broke. Out of breath from that one little activity, I took a few minutes to collect myself before finally stepping out into the hallway. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and dust covering the floor in layers. Clarence's foot prints left tracks in the dust. I continued down the hall towards the stairs, wondering how many flights I would have to walk down. When I reached the stairs and looked over the banister, I realized it was all of them. So he had put me in the attic. Smart. There was no way I could walk down all those stairs, so I did the most childish thing I've probably every done. I slid down the banister, dust covering my front by time I had reached the bottom.

The building seemed empty, with no tenants to speak of except for the bugs and dust. Nobody would look for me here, it was guaranteed. No wonder Clarence had chose here. It was probably very far from the MI6 base though, which was a disadvantage on my part. I rested at the bottom of the stairs, glancing out the window only to see darkness. It was night, but how long until morning I couldn't tell. Either way, I needed to get a move on, but I couldn't walk around London looking like this. I wandered through the first floor, my movements slow and stiff, trying to find an apartment that had clothes in it. I wasn't going to change, but I needed a jacket to hide all the blood. One of the rooms I entered still had all of the old tenants belongings sitting in place, and sure enough there were clothes. I yanked a grey hoodie off of a hanger in the closet and slipped it on, pulling the hood up as far as it would go to shadow my face.

I could only hold off looking in the mirror for so long. I wiped off the dust and gasped at what I saw, my hand reaching up to touch my face. A bruise had blossomed across the left side of my face, my neck and chin covered in dried blood. My eye makeup had smeared and run a little, my once bouncy curls were limp and matted with blood, my cheeks a bit sunken from the days without food or water. I looked like hell itself, and hell itself I would bring. Looking like this, most people would probably think me homeless and turn a blind eye, which on one hand was a blessing, but on the other wasn't. I needed food and water, water most so my body could faster replace the blood I'd lost. I tried the sink in the kitchen and couldn't help but feel relieved as water started dripping out. I put my mouth to the faucet and gulped until my stomach was sloshing and aching with the water but I didn't stop. I was so thirsty. I sat around for over an hour after that, feeling refreshed and much better, but nowhere near perfect health.

On the patio I found a bike, old and rusty, but it would do. I walked out of the building to find myself in the slums of London, the buildings around me either abandoned as well or full of druggies and criminals. Base was pretty far from here, about a half hour by car and a few hours with me on this rusty bike in my condition. The once dark sky was starting to lighten to a dark blue, letting me know that the sun was soon to rise with it's pink and golden smile. I needed to leave. Now. I took as many back roads and alleys as I could, stopping quite often to catch my breath and rest. This was no easy task, and I wanted to just sit behind a dumpster and fall asleep again, but what if someone found me?

Eventually I gave up though and did fall back asleep behind a dumpster, waking up to the sound of morning traffic a few hours later. It took me a while to get back on the bike, my body stiffer than before and my mind groggy even though I did feel a tad better. By time I was close to base it was mid morning. I dumped the bike in an alley near base and walked the two blocks to the guard gate, pulling down my hood as they stopped me. The guards took a step closer to get a better look and then scrambled back once they realized it was me. Questions spewed from their mouths and one of the pair pulled his radio from his belt.

"Don't call it in." I rasped, shaking my head as he started to ask for the medics. "I need to talk to Mallory first." Hehe. Talk. The guards asked me if I was sure and then offered to escort me inside, an offer I accepted. One of them put me on the little golf cart they used to travel around the outside of base and drove me to the front doors, escorting me to the elevator and then tipping his hat.

"Hope all goes well, Miss."

"Oh, it will." I told him with a smile before the doors shut between us.

I pressed the five button, took off the jacket, and then pulled out my knife as I waited for the doors to ding back open. Soon enough, they did, and I stepped into the main level, chin tilted down and glaring at them through my lashes. The office was loud with ringing phones, printing machines, and chattering people, but soon it all stopped as they caught sight of me. At the silence, people stepped out of their offices to see what was going on, some of them retreating back when they saw me. Bond, Q, and Moneypenny stepped out of 007's office, Q turning as white as a sheet and Bond looking befuddled.

"Where's Mallory and Barker?" I called out, my voice a bit weaker than I intended it to be. Someone simply pointed to Mallory's office and I had to hold back a growl. "Mallory!" I shouted, taking a few steps forward to find my knees weak. I wouldn't be up for much longer. "I'm here! Wouldn't you like to chat? Or maybe you'd like to just kill me."

The door opened and out came the two men, Clarence looking shocked, enraged, and ashamed all at the same time. Mallory simply looked confused. Clarence probably told him I was dead. "Emerald!" Mallory exclaimed, starting towards me with open arms and a look of false relief on his face. "What happened to you?"

"Cut the crap." I snapped, gripping the dagger tighter. "You know d*mn well what happened to me. Or did Clarence not tell you?" Mallory glanced at the agent over his shoulder, forehead crinkling as his eyebrows furrowed together. "I know you sent Clarence to kill me. He told me so. But I'm not the only one you wanted dead."

At this, he looked back me, expression tight as he tried to stay calm. His gaze was a warning_. "Don't say it. Don't you dare."_

But I was going to. "You ordered hits on all the agents." I said, glancing at the other agents in the room. They kept glancing between me and Mallory, trying to decide which one of us they thought was true. "You wanted to replace them, all of them, and you couldn't just let them go. You had to kill them."

Mallory's eye twitched as he now struggled to keep a calm disposition. "That's not true." he said, only loud enough for us to hear.

"It is! I could show them the file you gave me! And just in case you wanted to dispose of it, I made copies. I've hidden them. I have proof, Mallory. I _am_ proof. The agents were starting to get suspicious of us three so you had Clarence take me out. If one your agents was targeted as well, surely you couldn't be ordering the hits. That was what you were hoping to convey to them, yes? You should have known better than to choose me to take the fall, just because I didn't want to follow orders, just because I was the one who was most likely to turn against you. Someone needs to. You're going to run MI6 into the ground."

The only ones who didn't seem surprised by this were Bond and his crew, which made me think they'd known the whole time. They all looked at Mallory and Clarence with anger and disgust in their eyes. Even if they didn't fully believe me, the seed of doubt had been planted in their minds and eventually things would change, eventually they'd bring Mallory down.

"Lies!" Mallory spat, his calm finally breaking. "She speaks lies!"

"It's the truth!"

"Why would I ruin the UK's intelligence force? What would I gain from that?"

"Power! You're so greedy you want to have all of MI6 under your thumb, and how better to do that than to have it run by all your loyal agents? You don't even realize how horrible things are going to turn out!"

"This is treason, Miss Jones! I could send you to prison for this!"

"But you won't! You'd rather just have Clarence kill me! Oh yes, because he did such a great job last time!" I shouted sarcastically, gesturing to myself. "See this? He hung me from the ceiling by my ankles and bled me! Bled me!"

Mallory just shook his head, turning away from me. "Take care of this Clarence." He started back towards his office. "Everyone back to work."

Clarence didn't hesitate to follow Mallory's orders. He came at me, arms swinging towards me to get a hold of me, but I ducked under them. As I popped back up I snapped out my arm, sinking my dagger into the man's neck and feeling his blood squirt onto my hand. I yanked the dagger out and Clarence fell to the floor with a thud, squirming and gurgling before finally going still. Everyone froze again, watching me, watching Mallory.


	10. Chapter 10

Q was among those who gasped, taking a step back and blinking like he couldn't believe Emerald had done such a thing. But she had, right there in the middle of the office, as if the man was nothing more than a fly. He had never before witnessed an agent in action, the blood pool around someone as their body went still and cold. He'd never seen the livid, almost inhuman gaze of an agent who cared not who they killed. It made Q's blood run cold, it made him fear Emerald for the first time since that night at Cottage Cafe. It made him look around at the other agents, knowing now that they were all capable of such things. It made him fear them all.

Moneypenny just flinched, eyes going wide, and Bond simply clenched his fists. What the bloody hell did Emerald think she was doing? This wasn't the way to go about taking out Mallory. This wasn't the way to go about doing anything! He had no doubt she spoke the truth, he'd had a feeling all along, a feeling he's recently shared with the two that stood beside him. He watched Mallory turn back around, eyes landing first on Clarence, then going wide and back up to Emerald.

"Call security." he hissed, and someone in the crowd ran off to do his bidding.

"There's no need for that." Emerald said, her voice light and soothing, then her lips curled up in a half crazed smirk. "Once I'm done with you, I won't be a threat to anyone else."

And with that she ran towards Mallory, a beastly roar tearing from her throat and dagger raised. It was a split second decision that Bond made, one he wasn't sure was completely the right thing to do, but one he made none the less. He burst from the crowd and grabbed Emerald by her waist, his other hand clamping on her wrist that held the dagger. She came within a mere inch of Mallory, jaws snapping shut. He twisted her wrist as he pulled her back, dagger clattering to the floor and body thrashing. She was no match for Bond in her weakened state as he wrapped both of his arms around her now, keeping her arms pinned to her sides.

"LET ME GO!" she roared, squirming in his grasp, kicking at his legs, snarling.

"I can't." he said, but only enough for her to hear. He wasn't going to let her murder Mallory like this, even if he did deserve it. She was already going to be in trouble for killing Clarence and the other agents, but she would surely end up in the slammer for Mallory's death. He simply wasn't going to let her throw her life away like that.

"Let me go!" she shrieked, her voice more desperate now, and suddenly her knees gave out. "Bond!"

"I'll explain later." he said, and she just growled.

Security charged in then, weapons at the ready until they saw the woman was already being contained. They ran over, one of them pushing James away and the other pushing Emerald to the floor. They cuffed her hands behind her back and then yanked her to her knees, her head hung until Mallory came over to her.

"These will be the last lies you speak." he spat.

"I speak the truth!" she cried, looking over the crowd with pleading eyes. "You must believe me!"

"Take her away." he said, straightening his tie, to which the guards yanked her to her feet and dragged her towards the elevator.

"He's going to kill you all!" she shrieked over her shoulder. "Don't let him-" And then the doors dinged shut.

For a while, everyone just stood there, not quite sure what to do, when Mallory turned and headed towards his office. "Everyone may leave for the day, but I expect you back in two days. I'll address this matter once we have all had time to clear our heads."

Bond turned to his allies and nodded, letting them know they needed to meet up. They all went back and gathered their things before meeting up in stairwell, but no one said a word. It wasn't safe until they were outside. Just as they were about to walk, a guard ran up, pulling Bond away from the group.

"M would like you to stay and watch over the medical exam of prisoner 308."

_"So she already has a number."_ Bond thought bitterly as he looked back at Q and Moneypenny. They looked curious and somewhat afraid, but Bond just waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll call when I'm done. Stick together."

They gave him an uncertain look before heading out, leaving James to his own devices. The guard led him up to level ten where the detention center was. Half of the floor was offices for the security guards, the other half were metal cells, and one glass cell, the same one they'd kept Silva in before the sick bastard escaped and killed the old M. Hate and grief tore through Bond and the thought of Silva and M, but it wasn't long before his walls slid up, his heart once again like stone in his chest. Emerald was in the glass cell-because that worked so well last time. Two guards were standing nearby, Emerald kneeling in the cell with her head hung. She trembled slightly, as if she was struggling just to keep upright, which she probably was. She looked ghastly, and any moment she'd probably just keel over and die.

A nurse-a kind looking, petite Asian woman-was standing there as well, holding a clipboard and a big suitcase looking box of what was probably medical supplies by her feet. There was a small medical center on levels eleven and twelve for the agents. Such people couldn't go to hospitals unless it was a dire emergency or it was something that couldn't be taken care of at base. Hospitals asked too many questions.

They wouldn't be taking Emerald there though, she was staying right in that little cell. The guards nodded to James and let him and the nurse into the cell before walking out. Emerald finally looked up as the doors swung shut, leaving the three of them alone.

"Bond." she whispered, voice cracking and eyes pleading, scared. At first, 007 was just going to ignore her. He could of done it, but did he really want to? He glanced over at the nurse, who just shrugged.

"You never said a word to her." she said, and Bond nodded his thanks. She wouldn't tell.

He knelt down in front of Emerald and slowly wrapped his arms around her in what was supposed to be a comforting hug. At first, she leaned into him-not able to hug him back because of the cuffs- burying her face in his jacket and shoulders shuddering as she held back a sob. He rubbed her back, shushing her every time she tried to speak. Suddenly, she stiffened, and he pulled back wondering what he'd done wrong. One look in her eyes and he knew. He hadn't done a thing wrong, but the hug had lasted too long, been too kind. It was personal, and neither of them did very well with too much "personal".

"What did he do to you?" Bond asked quietly, eyes trailing over her bare arms and bloody hands, now cuffed in front of her.

There were tiny cuts and dots over her skin like she'd been punctured with something again and again, the same marks in the fabric of her shirt and pants. Bruises had blossomed on her cheeks, wrists, and ankles, and there were probably more hidden beneath her clothing. A knife wound at the base of her neck had been the source of the blood that covered her neck, and probably the rest of her. Something of a protective anger boiled in Bond's veins, and he wished it had been him to kill Clarence. Emerald may not have officially been part of Bond's little group, but she was still someone he had taken a liking to.

"Not much, actually." she said, as if it were nothing. Her voice was shaking, hoarse, the wild look in her eyes telling a different story. "A few punches here and there, chains, stabbing me, letting me bleed out."

He gently grabbed her little wrist above the cuff, looking at what looked like tiny knife marks, made by the tip of a blade. "Emerald-"

"Just shut up, Bond."


	11. Chapter 11

So he did. He just sat there next to me while the nurse helped me. She helped me out of my clothes, took note of my injuries on her clipboard, and then started cleaning my wounds with a water and alcohol mixture. I clenched my fists as the liquid touched my open wounds, hissing occasionally. This was always the worst part. Every time I moved, the woman stopped, waiting to see if I would attack her, and I just rolled my eyes.

"I won't hurt you." I said after about the fifth time. I tried not to growl.

"Not while I'm here." Bond chimed in, and for that I smacked him in the arm-weakly, however- and he pretended not to notice.

"You killed them." was what the nurse replied. "And Mr. Barker. Right here in the office."

"I didn't want to kill the agents." I muttered back. "I had orders. You see what happens when you don't follow them."

"You could of said no." she snapped, as if she were angry with me.

"And suffer the same fate as them? I don't think so." I growled. That was the end of our conversation. She finished cleaning my wounds and then took out a needle, uncapping it and then turning to me. "What the hell do you think you're going with that?" I shouted, scrambling back against James. He put an arm around me, holding out his other to the nurse to keep her back as we waited for an answer.

"Pain reliever, and you need an IV."

Bond put his hand down and unwrapped his other from around me, nodding to the nurse. She went to grab my arm and I shied away, eyes on the needle. The puncture wounds along my body spiked with pain at the memory of the pricking, my breathing quickened and my palms started to sweat. My heart was racing and suddenly I couldn't think straight. No needles. No.

"Emerald, it'll be over soon. Just let her finish." Bond said, voice deep and soothing as he tried to calm me.

For a moment, I fell for it, but soon the fear returned and I shook my head, pushing back farther against him so he could protect me, so he could stop her. But he wasn't. He had to, because if he didn't this nurse was going to end up dead, and I didn't want to kill anyone else. James grabbed my arms, his legs pinning down mine.

"James no!" I shrieked, thrashing in his grasp.

I blinked, and the nurse wasn't a nurse anymore. She was my Russian torturer from that staged mission years ago, black beady eyes glinting with blood lust. I heard a scream, and it took me a moment to realize it was mine. I kicked at Clarence, but it wasn't Clarence, it was the nurse again. What the hell? Nothing made sense, nothing was right. James held me tighter and the nurse-or was it Clarence?- came at me with the needle.

"HELP!" I shrieked. "Somebody help!" I cried out, looking towards the door for someone to burst in and help me. But then I realized nobody was coming. Nobody would help me. Why should they? I was on my own.

The woman's hand gripped my arm and I thrashed more, being held mostly still by James. This fear was so irrational, they weren't going to hurt me, they wanted to help. But something made the icy clutch of fear nag my heart and slide into my veins. She was going to hurt me, and so was James. They were going to kill me, weren't they? And Clarence was too, and Mr. Russia. Where did they even go?

The needle slid into my arm, the prick shooting pain deep into my bicep. I shrieked again and again, hot tears leaking from my eyes. The needle was out and my movements became slower, the adrenaline being forced away. My movements became slower, like they'd shot lead into my veins. What if they actually had? My mind started to fog up, and I went limp in James' now comforting arms. He was stroking my hair, saying something that I couldn't quite hear. What had they done to me? Why didn't they just kill me? I deserved it, but I had been too weak to plunge the dagger into my chest when I'd had the chance. My chest was shaking and shuddering, tears still streaming down my face as I looked up at Bond. The lights above nearly blinded me, my vision blurring and then going clear, blurring and then clearing.

"You should have killed me."


	12. Chapter 12

James froze at Emerald's words, staring down at her with a blank expression as the pain reliever rendered her unconscious. He stood up and got out of the cell, pacing outside it with a hand over his mouth and a troubled look in his eyes. What was so wrong that she wanted him to kill her? Maybe she was just getting cold feet and wanted to back out, but was too afraid to kill herself. That seemed unlikely, Emerald wasn't one to not finish a mission, even if it was self assigned. Maybe her problems ran deeper than he thought. That idea seemed more plausible.

She seemed to have gone crazy after the needle had shown up, old memories plaguing her. The same happened to every agent from time to time, some were just better at controlling it. Emerald, obviously, was not. The past coming back to haunt an agent wasn't uncommon at all, but what exactly had turned to stone hearted woman into a shrieking, frail, frightened girl? He'd just have to find out. But not here. He stopped pacing now, staring at Emerald as the nurse did her job, arms crossed and mind working in high gear. He needed to get Emerald out of here.

Yeah, they'd probably give him a few months in prison for aiding a criminal, or if he was lucky-which he most always was- they'd simply suspend him from MI6 for a while. Nothing too bad, nothing more than a slap on the wrist. If M, the old M, the real M were here, she'd have understood. She knew James worked on his terms and did things his own way. Then again, if M were here, none of this would be happening. She should still be here, he should have fought harder, protected her. Something.

"Damn it." he hissed to himself, turning on his heel and starting to pace again. Now was not the time to think of such things, he had more important matters to worry about, however he couldn't quite lock up the thoughts. About an hour later, the nurse had finished, an IV hooked into Emerald's arm and now dressed in a tan prisoner's jump suit. She nodded to Bond on her way out, medical box in hand and clipboard in the other. No doubt she was on her way to give the report to Mallory. He'd had plenty of time to think things through and decided to go with his plan before he could second guess himself.

As soon as the nurse exited the doors, James strode into the glass cell and carefully unhooked the IV from her arm, picking her up afterwards and once again surprised by how light she was. Her carried her to the back stairwell, not bothering to shoot out the cameras. They'd know it was him anyway. He carried her down the stairs and out the back entrance into the parking lot full of company cars, most sleek and black. The keys were kept in the glove box, so James simple picked the closest car, laid Emerald in the backseat, and drove off.

He speed dialed Q's number as he drove off, the younger man answering on the third ring. "Finally. We thought you'd never call." His voice was sarcastic, but Bond could pick up the faint notes of relief.

"Is Moneypenny with you?" he demanded, not in the mood to play word games.

"Yes. We stuck together like you said."

"Good, then both of you meet me at Cottage Cafe now. Take a taxi and bring a few days worth of clothes with you. We're going on a trip."

"You sound a bit flustered, James." came Moneypenny's worried voice over the phone.

"Me? Flustered? Never. Just meet me there, I'll explain." Bond hung up without waiting for an answer.

He pulled up to the curb outside the cafe about thirty minutes later, rolling down the passenger's seat window and leaning towards it to look for his two companions. It didn't take long to spot them and their duffel bags. A sharp whistle caught their attention and brought them over, faces etched with confusion and worry.

"Bond, what the bloody hell is going on?" Moneypenny hissed, leaning down to the window.

"Eve, I need you to take a taxi and get as far from here as you can. Make sure you're not being followed, and call me when you settle down for the night."

"Why?" she asked, reaching for the handle on the door.

"I'll explain more when you call. You'll be safer away from us."

"Us?" Q questioned finally, leaning down as well. He glanced around the car, spotting Emerald in the back seat and his eyes going wide. "Holy sh*t, Bond! What have you done?"

"Shut up, Q, and get in the car. Backseat, you'll need to be back there with Emerald when she wakes up. Moneypenny, leave. Now."

Q nodded and hopped in the backseat, dropping his bag on the floor and placing Emerald's head in his lap. He wouldn't fit in the backseat without someone sitting on someone else. Monehypenny was silent for a while before glaring at Bond and nodding. "Fine." she snapped. "Don't do anything stupid."

"No promises." he called after her with a smirk, rolling up the window.

The car ride was filled with Q questioning the agent and the agent giving short, sarcastic responses. He explaining the situation and his reasoning for kidnapping a criminal. Q didn't agree, but it was clear he was glad to have Emerald back, even if only for a little while They drove out of the city, bantering when Emerald first stirred. They went silent, Bond looking at the woman in his rear view mirror and Q lifting his hand. He'd been absent mindedly stroking her hair, it had a calming effect on him and he only realized now what he'd been doing.

It took her a few minutes to open her eyes and look around with that confused look on her face that one often has after taking a long nap. She quickly closed her eyes again though and put her head back in Q's lap, almost snuggling into the thin man, before bolting up right. She was held down by the seat belt, which she clawed at, eyes wild and confused.

"Emerald stop!" Q shouted, reaching out towards her but pulling his hands back as she snapped her jaws. "Em! Please, it's me, Q, and Bond! We're trying to help."

She froze then, glaring over her shoulder at Q, panting. She looked wild, hair fallen in her face, eyes wide, hands shaking. It took her a moment to realize who they were, and when she did she relaxed a bit, sinking into her seat. "You called me Em." she said, voice hoarse.

Q's brows furrowed at this. "Yes...I did." He hadn't paid much attention to the abbreviation of her name but it seemed to have some effect on her.

"Where are you taking me?" Her emerald eyes flicked to Bond now, looking into his blue ones in the mirror.

"We're going to M's house. Not Mallory M, the old M." His M. "And we're saving your bloody ass so calm down."

"Mallory let you take me?"

He tilted his head a little. "Not exactly."

Emerald sighed and put a hand to her forehead, eyes closing again. She didn't look too good. "Why? Why are you doing this?" Her voice was almost sad.

"Well I'm not going to kill you." was 007's response, him and Emerald exchanging a stare that only they knew, agent to agent. Each haunted by their actions and past, knowing in full they deserved to die but knowing the sweet release of death was too kind to ever get tangled with the likes of them.

At last, the woman diverted her gaze out the window, expression stone. "You should have."

The rest of the car ride was silent and tense. Q fidgeted a lot, often glancing to the agent beside him and kind of wishing she would fall back asleep in his arms. She seemed so peaceful then, and completely different than how she was now. Emerald was still as a statue, gazing out the window to the darkening scenery. She didn't seem to be in pain unless they hit road bumps, to which she winced, sometimes sucking in a breath. The three of them dumped the car in a motel parking lot and "borrowed" another car to drive back to M's house. The MI6 cars had trackers in them, and Bond didn't want to be found. Not yet.

They arrived at the grand, now empty house about an hour later. M-or Mum, as some of the agents had called her- had obviously been well off. Her house consisted of seven bedrooms, a piano room, living room, family room, state of the art kitchen, and dining room. It all seemed very rustic. It was a house with charm. With Mum dead the house had been put up for sale, all of her belongings given away and what was left behind covered in blankets. The last time Bond had seen this house it had been so full of Mum. It had been inviting, comforting. Now it was just as cold and desolate as Skyfall had been. He said nothing as they walked in, just escorted the two to their separate rooms. He boarded himself in a room down the hall, waiting for Moneypenny to call and then drinking enough to help him sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time I woke up, a bright mid-morning sun was seeping through the part in a set of heavy drapes that covered a sizable window. Everything in the house was silent, my face registering the slight sting of cold. It was warm underneath my covers so I snuggled under there until I needed fresh air again. When I resurfaced I looked around the room. The walls were a pale shade of blue, a book shelf and desk along one wall and a nightstand next to the bed. It was lacking any personal touch.

A note had been slid under my door, making a fond smile curl my lips. Last time such a thing happened, Q had been the messenger, telling me to meet him at the Cottage Cafe for a lovely but frustrating evening. Hopefully it was him again. I wasn't ready to face Bond and his overload of questions I had no desire to answer. I ignored the stiffness of my bones, the ache in my muscles, and the pounding of my head as I slowly sat up and crawled out of bed to retrieve the note. I unfolded the paper as I got back into bed, glad to have my feet off the frigid wooden floors.

_Bond has bought some food and a change of clothes for you. There's a shower down the hall. Come for breakfast when you're ready. -Q_

I put the note on the nightstand and reluctantly got back out of bed to open the bedroom door. Sure enough, a plastic bag full of clothes, a towel, and some shampoo was waiting for me. I picked out a pair of skinny jeans and a green sweater, throwing the rest on the bad after grabbing the towel and shampoo. I took my time in shower, trying not to think but thinking too much. About what to do next, about why they had helped me, about everything.

I finally stepped out of the shower as the water ran cold, quickly drying and dressing. Of course Bond hadn't bought makeup or a hairbrush so I was going bare faced today. Not much looked different. My eyelashes were just a bit shorter, my cheeks less glowy. I combed my hair out with my fingers as best I could and put it into a messy braid, securing it with a rubber band at the end. I sat in my room for a while afterwards, debating if I should go downstairs. I was starving, but I didn't want to get interrogated by wasn't long until the hunger won out.

Q was sitting at a small breakfast table, reading something on his Ipad and sipping at a cup of Earl Grey. Bond was transferring some cheesy scrambled eggs from a pan to plates. I just stood there, waiting for one of them to notice me. It was Q who did. He smiled at me, gesturing to sit down beside him. "Emerald, good morning." he greeted, getting up to make me a cup of tea as well. A smile twitched up my lips at the sight of him and his tea. This little Brit never did leave home without a box of tea, did he? It was kind of cute.

Gosh, when was the last time I thought anything was cute?

I sat down, Bond coming over with food for the three of us. I didn't hesitate to dig in, mumbling a quick thanks to him and Q. We all just sat there in a tense silence while we ate. Bond was the first to finish, pushing his plate away before leaning back in his seat. I could feel his ice blue eyes watching me, so I leaned back as I finished and stared back. "Let's get this over with, James."

"Guess I'll start then." he said with a sigh. "I want to know what happened. From the beginning. Why did Mallory bring you here? Why did he have Clarence target you? And what might Mallory do to the other agents?"

"I can't tell you all of it." I said, pushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"And why not?"

"Because it's personal."

"Not classified?" I shook my head. "Well if it's not classified then tell us. If you want our help we need to know."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Well you're getting it. Start talking."

I pushed my chair back and stood up, preparing to leave when I felt a hand on mine. I looked down to see Q taking my hand, looking up at me with a concerned expression. "Em, we just want to help."

"Don't call me that!" I snapped, my voice not harsh but more afraid, even a bit pleading.

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head a little, dark waves falling into his eyes.

"It's what my family and friends used to call me. I'm not that person anymore."

"So? We're you're friends...right?" His lips were pulled down, brows knitted together, and look in his eyes like he was seriously going to be hurt if I said no.

I just looked at him, expression softening. "If I could have friends, I'd want you to be one." was what I answered with.

"Bull shit." Bond growled. "You could have "friends" if you wanted to."

"It's dangerous! You know that! Do you have any "friends" Bond? Are Moneypenny and Q really your friends?" I shouted back, glaring at him. How dare he try and pin something like that on me when he was no different than I. He just glared back, remaining silent. "That's what I thought."

I looked back over at Q, who was full out frowning now as he snatched his hand away from mine. He looked beyond hurt, glancing between James and I. "We're nothing more than puppets to your kind, aren't we?"

Your kind. He said it with such disgust that a weight dropped onto my chest. I couldn't breath right anymore. Suddenly the weight of the world had been placed on my shoulders, a horrible guilt gnawing away at me. It wasn't the first time I'd felt ashamed of the things I'd done, but never like this, not because of someone else.

"Q, let me explain."

"I'm not sure I want to hear the answer." His voice was cold, harsh. It tore through me. He wasn't one of us, he'd never understand, but for some reason I felt the need to try and make him understand.

"You're right." I started, sitting back down. "To us, most people are nothing more than puppets, but there are times when even we get lonely. We're still people, we still want others there for us. There are times when we wish some were more than puppets, when we wish someone could make us be ourselves, if we haven't lost that."

He glanced over at me, a bit of curiosity peeking through his anger. "Am I one of those people?"

I nodded gently, resisting the strange urge to take his hand. "To me you are, the only one there ever was. Honestly, it scares me." I looked to Bond now, a bit of bite creeping into my voice. "Congratulations," I said sarcastically. "You were right. I am afraid of getting attached, because we all know what happens to those agents become close with. They get targeted, they get put in danger, and most of the time they even die."

"Doesn't mean we don't get attached." he muttered, looking at his empty plate with a look of remembering in his eyes. I could only wonder who he was thinking so fondly of.

"We just don't admit it."

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, soaking in all this new information and personally hoping that the previous topic didn't come up. I was glad all that was out of the way now, that Q knew at least some of the truth. That yes, I did want to care and trust him, but that I couldn't. It went against everything I was trained to feel, and to care about someone was to leave your life in someone else's hands. It was dangerous, for them and for you. I hoped that Q would try and leave it alone now, that he wouldn't bring this up again and that he'd stop trying to break my walls. But somewhere deep inside, I didn't want him to stop.

"Right, now back to business." Bond said after clearing his throat. Why did Mallory bring you here and why did he have Clarence target you."

"I can't tell you."

"Bloody Hell, Emerald. I swear if you don't tell me I will bring you back to base and let Mallory do whatever the hell he wants with you."

He was leaning forward, palms flat on the table, eyes narrowed. He was serious. "You're going to hate me."

"No we won't." Q spoke up, to which I just shook my head.

"Mallory is my father. That's why he brought me here." I couldn't look at them, I just stared stared into my half empty mug of tea. It was my first time coming face to face with the truth since I found out, and it was started to freak me out. I was the daughter of a monster.

Guess the apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

"What?" Bond hissed.

"Him and my mother hooked up while he was on vacation in America. By time I was born she had married her boyfriend so I always thought he was my real father. But then Mallory found out about me while I was in the CIA and brought me over so he could keep an eye on me, he even started to take me under his wing. A few months ago he gave Clarence and I an assignment to kill off the agents. I got the odd ones, you included, and he got the evens. Mallory wants to replace the agents with his own. We were supposed to kill them and hide the bodies."

"But you didn't agree so you didn't hide the bodies and you left me alive." Bond finished, filling in the blanks.

I nodded. "He realized I wasn't the type to just follow orders, so he had Clarence take me out. But he failed, obviously."

"And what exactly was you plan? Show up and kill the both of them?" I nodded again. "You're an idiot. You'd have ended up in prison for sure. You can get away with self defense for Clarence, but you'll have to take out Mallory another way."

"I can't press charges against him. What if he has friends in court? I'd never win."

Finally Q spoke up, taking my hand again. "Do you want to end up in prison?"

"Of course not."

"Then think rationally. Killing Mallory will only result with you locked up."

"Not if I get him to attack me first. Then when things go to court, I can claim self defense and use the files I have against him. He'll be dead, and so will Clarence, so the only two to testify against me will be you two."

"And you trust us with this?" Bond asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

"I guess I have to."


	14. Chapter 14

Bond sat back in his seat again, watching Emerald, who was watching him. She looked nothing like Mallory. Tan, when he was pale. Curly hair, where his was straight. A little button nose, where his was fat and bulbous. She was supposedly the man's daughter, even though he could see no sign of Mallory anywhere, not even in her personality. Then again, Emerald was an agent, and agents were trained to act. Who knew what she was really like? There was only one thing Bond could say for sure about her: that she was crazy.

Nobody in their right mind would walk into an MI6 base-especially headquarters- and think to attack M. "You're not going." Bond said at last, in a tone that implied his decision was final and not to be questioned. "You're not going back to base for Mallory. You're too injured to risk it. We have to negotiate with them."

"No, James. Didn't Mallory give everyone a few days off? I need to go before they get back. It will be easier to get inside and through the building."

"You mean getting yourself killed?" Bond snapped back.

"If I get killed, so be it."

"What exactly do you have against living?" he barked resisting the urge to slam his fist against the table.

"My family thinks I'm dead, I'm going to kill my real father, I kill and lie and cheat and steal for a living! The world isn't going to miss me, so I might as well go out doing something useful." she growled, standing up again and glaring at Bond, her gaze hard and defiant. "I'm going, and you can't stop me." Turning on her heel, she stormed towards the stairs. Her normally light footsteps echoed through the house, heavy with anger and determination.

Frustrated, Bond stood to go after her. "Wait," Q said, standing as well "I'll go after her. You'll only make things worse."

"Worse?" Bond questioned angrily, as if Q had said something ridiculous. "Nothing can get worse than this, Q. We have a suicidal, vengeful lunatic on our hands who won't listen to reason!"

"I CAN HEAR YOU!" Emerald shouted downstairs before slamming the door.

Q shot Bond a quick glare before trotting upstairs and knocking on Emerald's door. She mumbled something, probably "go away", but he stepped inside anyways, closing the door behind him. Emerald was sitting on the bed, legs pulled up and arms wrapped around them. Her eyes flicked to him as the door clicked shut. "What do you want?" she asked quietly, looking towards the window covered by heavy drapes.

He didn't answer right away, just slowly walked to the window and pulled away the curtains. Pale, yellow sunlight brightened up the once dark room, causing them both to squint and blink for a moment. The view outside was gorgeous. Soft, lush grass and the slight decline of the land in the backyard led to a little pond and a willow tree. He couldn't help but think how nice it would be to just sit out there and talk with her. "I want to talk to you."

"What if I don't want to talk to you?"

"Then at least listen." He turned to face her now. "I know nothing I say is going to stop you from going after Mallory." He walked over to the bed and slipped off his shoes before sitting down across from her. "But I at least hope I can make you not want to kill yourself." She flinched at his words, as if he'd slapped her, though her expression remained blank as she stared out the window. "The world may not miss you, but I would."

"Don't pull that bullshit on me." she snapped, her voice edged with something he couldn't quite name. Fright? Uncertainty?

"It's not bullshit. Believe it or not, Emerald, but somebody actually cares about you. You're not alone because you're an agent, you're alone because you want to be alone. You're afraid you'll get hurt." She didn't reply to that, she he reached out and gently brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. "What happened to you, Em?"

His voice and touch was so gentle she thought she'd shatter. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, remaining silent. She shouldn't tell him, he didn't need to know. Nobody did. But she could feel the words bubbling up inside her, ready to spill out. "Back when I first joined the CIA... I befriended a man by the name of Jonathan. Jonathan Clare. He took me under his wing, went on my first missions with me. He was the one I turned to when I needed help or advice or anything. I'd left everything behind and Jonathan had been there to welcome me with open arms." She paused, taking a deep breath and opening her eyes again, looking down at the white bedsheets. "I got a mission one day, in Russia. The mob had gotten some of our agents that had been placed there and me and four others had to go pull them out. Only, when we got there, there was nobody to save. We were the ones that ended up getting captured and tortured. The whole thing had been set up by Jonathan. He was a double agent; he'd tricked us, me especially."

_She remembered being tied up in a bare concrete room to an uncomfortable wooden chair. It was dark, the only sound was the drip drip of a leak in the corner. She remembered hearing the door open, her blindfold being ripped off. There, along with her two torturers, was Jonathan. He looked down at her as if he didn't even know her, his eyes cold and uncaring. "Jonathan?" she whispered, leaning towards him with hope rising. He'd save her, he'd save them all. Instead he slapped her across the face and groped her, hissing insults in her ear about herself and the agency._

"Because of him, four of my comrades were killed, I was tortured." It was two months before they finally negotiated for her release. "It's safer for everyone if people like me don't trust anyone. If you befriend another agent they could turn on you. If befriend anyone else, they could get captured or killed by enemies. It's messy."

"But it's depressing, isn't it? Lonely?" he asked, voice soft.

He was glad when Emerald finally looked up at her, though her eyes were unreadable. She just nodded. "I've never had that much of a problem with it until I came here." Until he came along. "You were the only one that ever tried to befriend me." He made her realize what she was missing. "I don't want to do this anymore. I'll be thrown in jail for something, even if I can prove Mallory guilty and claim self defense on Clarence. I can't rot away in there, but I'm not going to sit back and watch Mallory ruin MI6."

"So you think your only option is to kill yourself?" He didn't understand.

"No, I know it's my only option."

"So that's your plan? You're just going to walk right in and hope somehow you both end up dead?"

"Exactly."

"Please don't." he pleaded, brows knitting together.

"No promises."

They were silent for a while, Q trying to figure out something to say. "You don't have any weapons." Q said at last. How could she go through with the mission if she had nothing to kill Mallory with?

"I'll get some from my old office. They shouldn't have cleared it out yet."

Sighing, the man rubbed his face. He was fighting an uphill battle with this. "When do you plan on going?"

"Noon."

"Mallory's lunch break." She nodded. "I'll drive you."

"Q-"

"I'm not letting you go alone."

"Fine but stay in the car."

"No promises."

Instead of the aggravated look he was expecting, she just smirked, leaning back against the headboard with her hands resting on her stomach. Q sprawled out next to her, the two talking about everything and nothing until the sun went , bit by bit, Q learned just about everything there was to learn about the agent, her walls slowly crumbling to nothing. Her favorite color was green-go figure-, she knew how to play piano and she used to love to sing. Her favorite animals were dogs, her favorite breed the cute little Corgi. She used to love to read, and her home was in Georgia. Savannah, to be specific. She loved fried chicken and fried green tomatoes. Her favorite sandwich meat was salami. If she hadn't become a CIA agent she would have wanted to become a cop or a teacher, maybe take a job with Disney or Dreamworks as an animator for their movies. She wanted to get married and have two kids, a boy and a girl, and name them Oliver and Anastasia.

She had been normal once, so normal it bewildered him. How could this woman, the woman he'd only known as a cold, closed off killer, have such soft thoughts? Thoughts of starting a family and growing old in a town so small everyone knew everyone. As much as he'd liked the old Emerald, he liked this one even more. He'd gotten her to laugh quite a few times, the genuine sound ringing through the room and lighting it as bright as any sun could. As the hours ticked by they started getting sleepy, Emerald surprisingly the first to fall asleep, curled up next to Q and looking more peaceful than he ever could have imagined. Her last words were cut short as she drifted off, words he couldn't quite hear and words she wouldn't quite remember in the morning.


	15. Chapter 15

I felt myself slowly surface and awaken, the first thing registering was the warmth and comforting arms around me. I snuggled into them before realizing what was happening. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I did remember waking up in the middle of the night and feeling Q's arms wrap around me. We fell back asleep like that, feeling safe and sound and cared for. I knew I probably should of crawled out of bed and let Q wake up alone. If he woke up with me in his arms he might think that there was something between us and-no. I needed to stop. I'd already opened up to Q and it wouldn't be fair to push him away now. Besides, I was dying today, might as well enjoy it while I can.

I just curled up in his arms, drifting in and out of sleep until I felt him stir. I looked over my shoulder at him, watching as his warm brown eyes fluttered open. He looked a bit surprised to see me, then smiled and pulled me closer, chuckling a bit. "Good morning." he whispered against my neck, raising goosebumps even though we were trapped under the warm covers.

"Morning." I whispered back, afraid anything too loud would ruin everything. We just continued lying there until there was a knock on the door.

"Emerald, it's already ten." It was Bond. "Are you coming down for breakfast or not?"

"I'll be down in an hour!" I called back, rolling over to face Q as I heard Bond's footsteps retreat down the hall.

"Go on, shower." Q told me with a sad smile. "I'll distract Bond after we finish eating so we can leave."

A mischievous smirk curled up my lips, soon being mirrored on his face. "I'll see you soon."

And before I could get up, he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. I just giggling, ignoring the red flags that kept popping up in my mind and kissing him again, longer this time, deeper. By time I pulled away, Q's cheeks had flushed red, making me giggle again as I got up and gathered another pair of clothes. I looked over my shoulder at Q before heading out of the room and to the shower. I hurried to wash, dry off, and dress. I French braided my wet hair- the end hanging just below my breasts.

I emerged from the bathroom about an hour later, heading downstairs for a breakfast of buttered toast and sunny side up eggs. My stomach knotted in anticipation but I forced myself to calm down, forced myself to eat. Just as we all finished, Bond's phone rang, Moneypenny's name popping up on the screen. It seemed just too convenient. I glanced at Q suspiciously, being answered with a knowing smirk. He'd set the call up! The sly bastard.

"Excuse me." Bond said as he rose from his seat and wandered off to answer her call.

"You ready?" Q asked, putting our dishes in the sink and heading towards the garage.

"As I'll ever be."

We tiptoed to the garage and got into the car, Q expertly backing it out and then speeding off down the road. Suddenly, a tense silence hung over us, heavy and suffocating. I was really doing this. I was taking out Mallory, my father, my own flesh and blood, and killing myself in the process. Why did I let Q come along?

"Promise me you'll stay in the car." I said, gazing out the window. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

"I can't do that." he answered, and I could see him glance at me from the corner of my eye.

"It'll get ugly in there."

"So you'll need backup."

"If I wanted backup I'd have brought Bond." I finally forced myself to look at him, fighting to keep the walls from flying up. By now, they did it on instinct. "Q-"

"It's Major." he interrupted, though his voice was gentle. "My real name is Major, Major Boothroyd."

"It's an old man name." I blurted, giving him an apologetic look afterwards.

"I get that a lot." he said with a chuckle.

"Okay then, Major. I know why you wanted to come. You wanted to try and stop me, didn't you? To save me if anything went wrong?" He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Stay in the car. I don't want you to see my like this."

"Like what? Dead?"

"No, savage. If I have to fight any security of anything I won't censor myself because you're there. I've been trained to mercilessly kill if I have to, and once the training kicks in there's no stopping me."

"I can handle it."

"No. Mallory won't hesitate to kill you."

"You either!"

"Major, you have your whole life ahead of you! A family, friends! Don't you dare throw that away because of me."

"I want you in my life, Em. You can't be part of it if you're dead."

I looked away, blinking rapidly. It was as if the world had suddenly shifted, a brand new sun shedding light on everything and letting me see with new eyes. Q-Major- really cared about me. I really cared about him too. I finally opened up because I thought I'd be dying today, because I may as well let someone know the truth before I get myself killed. But now that I had, now that my walls were nothing but ruins, I didn't want to die. I wanted to live and explore this new found freedom and emotional unrestraint. I wanted to live for Q. Suddenly, I had nothing but everything. I still had no family, I would still lie, cheat, kill, and steal for a living, but with Q -Major- there, suddenly it didn't seem so bad. It seemed bearable now.

I laughed out loud, lightly first, then louder until I could hardly breath. "Yes." I said. "Yes! Fine, I'll do it! I promise, I'll make it out there alive!"

"You will?" he asked, seeming surprised by sudden outburst.

"Of course!" Suddenly, the world seemed a brighter place.


	16. Chapter 16

We pulled up near the back parking lot a few minutes later, the building seeming cold and unwelcoming. It never felt like home, but now it just seemed like a battlefield. "You should go back to Bond." I told Q, keeping a frown off my lips.

"No, I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine." I said with a sigh. "Don't do anything stupid."

"No promises." And with that he leaned over and kissed me, gently, his hands cupping my face. He tasted of butter and sadness.

"See you when I get out." I whispered before hopping out of the car

I forced myself not to look back as I snuck past the guard gate and into the building. I took the stairs, avoiding security cameras as best I could. I made my way up to main level where both my own and Mallory's office was located. I had to crawl through the main part of the level to avoid being seen from Mallory's office window. Once I was in the hallway my office was on, I stood up and broke the door knob off the door, allowing me access to my office. There was police tape around a few things, but it didn't seem like anything had been taken. I picked up a gun and a knife then crawled back to Mallory's office. As I was crawling, I noticed the blood had been cleaned up from when I killed Clarence. I wish it hadn't been. I wanted it to stay, as a reminder of the things I'd done. With it gone, I'd just be another rogue, erased from history.

I took a moment to steel myself as I wrapped my hand around the door knob, taking a deep breath and then charging in. Startled, Mallory jumped to his feet, hands up, before realizing it was me. He smirked, lowering his hands then. We stood there for a moment, watching each other with weary eyes.

"I was expecting you." he said as he sat back down.

"Of course you were." I hadn't raised either of my weapons yet, but as the man reached for something I raised the gun. "Don't. Don't grab a weapon. Don't call for help. We need to talk."

"About what? You already know everything."

I scowled and stepped closer, hands not shaking as I aimed the gun at his forehead. "You couldn't have just stuck with the other agents, could you? Why did you want to replace them?" I feared I already knew the answer.

"So they would be loyal to me."

My fear was confirmed. "You wanted total control."

"An agency is nothing if not loyal to it's leader."

"You could have made them trust you! Done something good to earn it! But no, that would have taken too long right?"

"Now you're getting it."

I scoffed in disgust, shaking my head. "And me. How could you?" A lump formed in the back of my throat, almost stopping me from speaking. "Just because I wasn't going to fit into Clarence's shadow and obey your every command didn't mean you had to order a hit on me!"

"It did. It was only a matter of time before you rebelled against me. We couldn't have that, now could we?"

"I'm your daughter!" I shouted at him, tears pricking the back of my eyes.

"Tough decisions have to be made every day." he said, as if I were nothing.

"A decision. That's all I was to you." My mouth was very dry all the sudden, speaking was hard to do. "Just give up. Come with me."

"To where?"

"The police station, Parliament, anywhere. I don't care. You just need to confess."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll kill you."

"You wouldn't." he taunted, spreading his arms.

"Want to bet?"

"Actually, yes."

It was then he dived behind the desk, hidden from my sight and no doubt going for a weapon. I dashed behind a bookshelf, narrowly avoiding being hit by bullets. I reached my gun around the wooden bookcase and shot, but he ducked back behind the desk. Nothing was going to get done like this, and with all the gunshots somebody might hear. This needed to end. He shot some more, his gun running out of ammunition. I took my chance and charged the desk, jumping on top of it and aiming right between his eyes. I pulled the trigger, my gun sounding abnormally loud, and watched as Mallory slumped against the floor, his blood splattered against the wall behind him. I held my gun, hands shaking, still aimed for where he had been. It was over. I really did it.

The office door swung open and I wheeled around to face it, aiming my gun. It was only Q, but I couldn't lower the gun. He put his hands up, his face falling. He wasn't looking at the gun though. "Emerald, it's me. Please, get down from there. We need to get you to a hospital." he pleaded, looking as if he were on the verge of tears.

Why a hospital. When he reached me, he pried the gun from my shaking hands and threw it on the floor, luckily not able to see Mallory's body behind the desk. He couldn't see that. With gentle hands he grabbed my hips and carefully pulled me down. I cried out as a sharp pain blazed up my abdomen. I fell but Q caught me, carefully sitting down and cradling me in his lap. I tried to breath but it hurt, sending another stabbing pain through me. I looked down to see blood soaking my black shirt, making the fabric stick to my skin. I'd been shot? No wonder the gun sounded so loud, I hadn't been the only one to pull the trigger.

I whimpered, something foreign rise up in me: fear. True and genuine fear, along with a biting disappointment. This wasn't how this was supposed to end. I was supposed to live, but instead here I was dying when I finally had something to live for. "No." I whispered, tears forming in my eyes and blurring my vision. I started to feel dizzy even though I wasn't standing. Q's arms tightened around me, one of his hands pressing down on the wound. A feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Emerald, we can still get you to a hospital, you can still make it out of this." he said, trying to stand up.

"No, Q. I won't make it to a hospital. You won't be able to get past security with me."

He whined, holding me so tight I thought he might crush me. I didn't mind though. "You promised you'd live!" he shouted down at me, not able to hold back the sob that shook his shoulders.

"I wanted to, Q."

"No! You lied to me! You never wanted to make it out of this, you only said that to make me happy and now look what you've done! I thought you actually cared! But I was wrong and I-"

I closed my heavy eyelids, not able to look at the Q's expression. It hurt me to see him like this. As usual, somebody was in pain and it was all my fault. "Q, listen to me." I lifted a hand and held it to his cheek, opening my eyes. I knew he was saying all of that because he was hurt, but his words tore through me like more bullets. "I'm so sorry." The first tears rolled down my cheeks. "I want to live, so badly. I'm so sorry. Please, please, please forgive me." Tears welled up in his eyes now, making my insides writhe in agony. "Please don't cry." I whispered, my voice breathy and weak as I tried to wipe away his tears.

"Em...Em I don't want you to go."

"And I don't want to leave." I don't want to spend my afterlife burning in Hell alone. "Promise me you won't cause any trouble." He nodded, biting his lip. "There's a good boy."

"Em-"

"Don't." I whispered, and he raised his hand to cover mine, holding it to his face when I couldn't any longer. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. "Just hold me." I could feel his body shaking as I closed my eyes, no longer able to keep them open. My vision was blurred with tears and spotted with black anyways, head spinning, ears ringing. I felt his lips against my palm before it was returned to his soft cheek, wet with tears. I managed to peel my eyes open one last time, my vision clear for a brief moment. It allowed me one final look at Q. "Smile for me, Q." Slowly, his anguished expression faded, leaving a pained smile in it's place. I smiled a bit too, choking out a gargled laugh. "You were my new reason to live."


	17. Epilogue

And suddenly she was still, head rolling back, the ghost of a smile forever on her face. Q felt like his insides had been shattered, leaving him numb but in excruciating pain. A scream forced it's way out of him before sobs made his body shake. He pulled Emerald's still warm body closer, resting his forehead against hers. She'd promised she'd come back. Alive. And she didn't. He could have continued on easier if she'd lied to him, if she'd claimed to have never cared. But not now, after her last words were ones of affection, meaning more than anything she'd ever said.

"You were my new reason to live."

Her weak voice echoed in his head over and over again, the look in her eyes not of pain or rage or fear, but of adoration. He stayed curled over Emerald's body until security found them and called the police. They came with black body bags, tearing Emerald away from him and stuffing her inside, not even bothering to shut her dull emerald eyes. Never again would he see the spark in them.

As he was driven to the police station, he went numb, the rest of the day and night passing in a blur. They questioned him and threw him in a cell until the security tapes were watched, revealing him innocent of everything but aiding a criminal. Him and Bond were required to show up in court a day before Emerald's funeral. They ended up being suspended of their duties for six months and fined two thousand pounds each. Nothing but a slap on the wrist.

Word of Emerald's endeavor went international. Some thought her a hero, some remembered her as nothing more than a rogue. M was replaced again, with a kinder man. He was strict but fair and didn't try anything shady. So far, he was clean. Many attended Emerald's funeral, including those from the agency and even her old family and friends. Once news had got out that she hadn't really been dead, they'd come to London right away. But now their daughter, sister, friend, really was dead and gone, being put in the ground again. Him and Bond stayed the longest, both of them not uttering a word. At last, Bond patted him on the shoulder and left.

Emerald's favorite flowers had been water lilys, so he'd searched all through London for a florist that sold them. At last he stepped forward onto her freshly dug grave and placed down the flowers. He knelt in front of her headstone, pulling out a knife. Emerald's headstone was pretty simple.

Emerald Anastasia Jones

July 7th, 1986 - March 28th, 2013

"Even heroes have the right to bleed."

The last line was a quote from one of her favorite songs, Superman by Five for Fighting. Underneath that line he started to carve something else, four words that meant nothing to anybody but him and Emerald. Once he was done he stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees, and placed a single kiss on her headstone. With that he turned and left, returning every year on the anniversary of her death.

Emerald Anastasia Jones

July 7th, 1986 - March 28th, 2013

"Even heroes have the right to bleed"

_Someone's reason to live_

_**The End**_


End file.
